


Burn

by sleeplittlechild, SpiritOfFox



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-01 02:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 38,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12146343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeplittlechild/pseuds/sleeplittlechild, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiritOfFox/pseuds/SpiritOfFox
Summary: “It  is  a  truth,  generally  accepted,  that  a  Stone-Cold  Bitch  in  employment  of  a  brothel, must  be  in  want  of  a  good  fuck."--------The Regency Era was a time of rigorous high-society cues and rituals and an even more rigid social hierarchy. At the top were those with old money, envied by all and deemed untouchable by even more. And on the very bottom, were the Endowed – gifted individuals regulated to being the scum of the scum. The beggars, the thieves, the homeless, and the prostitutes.Laurent deVere is content being the most profitable brothel owner in London, as he long ago resigned himself to his place in life. But when the attractive, well-spoken Mr. Akielon arrives, his place might just be lost to the wind.





	1. The Arrival of Mr. Akielon

**Author's Note:**

> So....here's fingers crossed that I actually get this done in time!!
> 
> Here's my first attempt at a Big Bang. I'm working with [spiritoffox](spiritoffox.tumblr.com) and lemme tell you - her art is WONDERFUL!!!! Please, even if you don't like this fic, [go check her out - she's awesome!!!](http://spiritoffox.tumblr.com/post/165553878640/it-is-a-truth-generally)
> 
> Also giant shout-out to [shelllessturtle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelllessturtle/pseuds/shelllessturtle) \- my wonderful friend and beta (I love you so much - I will buy you so much merch and food, you can't stop me)
> 
> Don't usually do this, but come check me out on tumblr - [conformityvictim](https://www.conformityvictim.tumblr.com) (Also known as tinyhatred because I love having usernames)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The House of Vere receives an interesting customer.

It is a truth, generally accepted, that a Stone-Cold Bitch in employment of a brothel, must be in want of a good fuck. However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first – or twentieth - proposition, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the regulars, that he is considered the rightful property of one or other of the lords.

Laurent had worked for his uncle's brothel for many years, as his guardian's only income came from the house. He had come into his uncle's care at 13, orphaned by the death of his brother and his father. At that same time, his uncle had lost the use of his legs. So between caring for him, learning to finance the house and its workers, and coping with his own loss, obviously Laurent had not been presented to the men til quite recently when he took his uncle's position as Presenter.

It was a truth, much better well known through the streets of London, that the blue two-level that bore the name 'Vere' above it was a Molly-house. A high number of the gentlemen passing through each night were quite open in their offers to bring Laurent into their bed. To shower him with jewels and land and wine if he would warm their beds for an hour. They were enticing offers no doubt. If Laurent was as inclined as the other employees, he might have accepted one or two of them. But he was not, so the offers were not much more than empty words Laurent paid no mind to in the dark of the night.

A bell in the corner of Laurent's bedroom and office began to ring. A customer had entered. Looking out the window, twilight had not yet struck; in fact, it would not for a few long hours. Either this man was an amateur fool or an egotistical bore. Either way, Laurent assumed easy money. Such would be a promise for the rest of the night. He closed his ledger, marking the page with his quill. The month's finances could hold till a few of the gentlemen were in the midst of business, surely. So he left his room and rounded the stairs.

His uncle had chosen his house well. Leading to the private quarters, the members of the household could round the stairwell and peak into the drawing room. There they could see their guest without revealing themselves.

Laurent was surprised to see a familiar face. Mister Damianos Akielon, a well-off and well-known man: He held considerable land in the country, it was said, and only showed up in the city a few months out of the year for business and trade. Laurent had only seen him two summers ago in passing at the ball of Lady Vishkar. That he chose to spend a day – an early day – in the house was unexpected.

“He likes blonds.” said Jord. He had been a part of the household long before Laurent joined, taking great part in raising him alongside his uncle. He was an honest man, hard-working, and loyal. “I have seen him at the docks, always with a handsome thing on his arm escorted about.” A hand gently moved a lock of hair that had escaped the tie-off at his shoulders. “Bears quite a resemblance to you.”

“The docks, Jord?” Laurent smiled. “My uncle would have words for you if he found out.”

“Then it is favorable that he not find out.”

Together, they walked through the house to the dens. Many of the women were painting themselves or lacing their corsets and so, would not be presented. Laurent had to carefully choose from those who were already ready and from there, three blonds. During this time, he chatted with Jord more about Mr. Akielon. This was his first time in Vere, but not his first time at a brothel house.

“They say, he likes them timid.” This comment was directed toward the girls rather than towards their conference. “He enjoys taking one's time to rouse to the occasion.”

“So a fee by the hour, should be plenty, should it not?” Laurent replied.

“Surely, by the way he flaunts himself, I think you may want to pay by the day.” Jord smiled upon Laurent. He retired to his own room to prepare for the night.

The night would be fortuitous indeed.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Akielon.” Laurent entered minutes later, trailed by the three lovely ladies. It was a little unsettling, seeing his own features reflected back to him amongst the other sex. The only solace Laurent could find was in that he did not have the hefty weight of breasts. “Have you been in London long?”

Mr. Akielon turned on his heels from admiring the mantle (a sign of a well-accustomed man that he was not nervously fingering his hat on the sofa.) He smiled at Laurent politely and bowed at the women in turn. “I have only just returned. A little partnership with my cousin. The travel has been taxing and I wish to...partake in relaxation, as it were.”

“I see. I hope you don't find it rude to say I believe you have selected wisely in coming to Vere. Our ladies all have great reputations in relaxation. You would like to be acquainted with them, I take it?”

Mr. Akielon replied with silence, but he did step forward. Each of the ladies blushed and fluttered their eyes appropriately. They curtsied in turn as he stood before each. He assessed them. In turn, they assessed him.

“Am I correct in assuming that they are all...Endowed?”

“They are, Sir.” Laurent proceeded to explain each of their abilities.

London’s rigid separating codes, for at least the last half a century as far as Laurent knew, had gone well past wealth, skin, and sexual inclinations, when the discovery of human beings with abnormal and sometimes exceedingly extraordinary abilities at their disposal. “The Endowed” they were called - a sort of ironic title, Laurent thought. They were first seen in gypsy sideshows and museum exhibits, but their presence manifested in more and more people.

When they demanded a seat of equality amongst their fellow man, the high society - as they always did - had sent them rolling down the proverbial hill.

It was a list Laurent kept locked away and repeated to himself when he could not sleep: How many people in London he knew who had unnatural talents and accomplishments, and in which hovel or gutter they could be found. For the Endowed were never granted any clemency; it was their civil duty to turn their Hell on Earth into some semblance of Heaven for the upper class.

Amongst the ladies present, Laurent explained, one could vanish from sight (and was known to in the thralls of passion. Some men found that appealing, Laurent supposed.) Another sang and lulled her men into sleeps more sated, more pleasurable than any orgasm. The third held simple bone, pliable and easily bent into shapes tighter than a contortionist. It was quite the show to be seen, Laurent was told.

“And you?”

“Sir?”

“Surely you have abilities yourself? What are they?”

It was a strange question, not often asked. Laurent was caught off-guard and so, stumbling internally for an answer. “If I may, sir, for what reason do you have in asking me such?”

“You may intrude, if I may intrude on asking to have the company of the employer of the house.”

Well, that certainly was a renovated approach to an old question. Laurent bluffed a laugh, feigning a leisurely posture against the wall. “My uncle employs this house. I just work here. I have not made myself acquainted with the work of his staff, nor have I ever had the engagement to.”

“I see.” said Mr. Akielon. “Would there be anything that could change your opinion then, Mr. Vere?”

“deVere, actually. Laurent deVere – excuse me, I had not introduced myself beforehand. And no, I do not believe there would be.” Laurent said the words with a pungent sort of stab in each. It had become so very commonplace lately.

“You did not, but it is no offense to be taken. This is not quite the place where introductions are made in quite the same manner.” Mr. Akielon interrupted. “Well, thank you for your very honest opinion. I do expect nothing less from a good man.”

For a moment, a flare of dread sprung up in Laurent's chest. While men had propositioned him before, his refusal had never cost the house their coin. Hopefully he had not been too forceful to lose their customer. Laurent forced himself to remain against the wall and appear disinterested, internally fighting against the cloying guilt building in his chest.

“I assume you have baths that can be bought?”

“...Yes. With attendants to bring you food and wine.” Laurent replied. He hid his stammering surprise well. “The attendants are a few rentboys, young, but all of legal age. I can ask one of the girls, if you...”

“No, that will do quite nicely. I would care for a bath and a room for night, if I may.” From Mr. Akielon's waistcoat he pulled out his pocketbook. He held it out to Laurent without opening it. “Will that be acceptable?”

Laurent swallowed. He forced himself to move and accept the book, meanwhile his mind hurried to catch up with the situation about him. Laurent gestured to one of the girls, he was not sure who nor did he care, to show Mr. Akielon to the high baths in the back of the manor. He gestured to another girl to notify a servant for hot water to be brought up.

A blank checkbook, in which Laurent could write whatever price he so wanted. This was something Laurent usually only dreamt of. Having it laid before him, was quite an uneasy arrangement.

No, it was not the arrangement that was uneasy. It was in the way that man – a man who appeared so early, and behaved so calmly, and questioned so... _simply_ – was nothing at all what Laurent had ever expected.


	2. Mr. Akielon's First Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Akielon sends a letter, declaring surprising intentions for Laurent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [shelllessturtle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelllessturtle/pseuds/shelllessturtle) again because I love them so much and thank you so very much for beta-ing this. I gift you with so much funnel cake and pocky.
> 
> I'm working this with [SpiritOfFox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiritOfFox) so go check her art out as well. I look forward to everything they're drawing.
> 
> This is a shorter chapter, but I think it evens out because at one point, I write 2000 words in a chapter, so....

Not three days later, a letter arrived to the house of Vere. Originally, Laurent had planned to place it aside with the other cumbersome gifts and offers the girls usually gathered over a week. When he saw his name across the front, written in an elegant yet obviously hasty scrawl, he gave pause and opened it.

_To one Mr. Laurent deVere,_

_I understand if you find my words impertinent and if you are so inclined, please return my letter and I will say no more. My cousin lives not so far from your establishment; I have enclosed his address for your convenience._

_It is my hope that through this letter I wish to make my intentions known. We have only spoken for a moment, and a rather crass moment at that, but I believe you are someone my life cannot be without. Your wit, your position, and your beauty enhanced my trip to London far more than I could ever thought possible. It is my wish to know you better._

_I eagerly await your reply,_

_Damianos Akielon._

While reading, Jord entered the room quite unnoticed by Laurent. His friend stared at the letter intently, re-reading it over and over. Only one thought came to mind. "A suitor, finally? It has only been a 'coon's age."

"Jord, you frighten me. Speak not of such foolish things."

"You give the writing such attention: I wonder if the letter itself is proposing. Befitting, given your bed in the library."

Laurent waved him away. "It is from Mr. Akielon. He...he has expressed interest in..." The situation was so silly, Laurent did not believe he could finish the thought.

"Is he buying the estate? Sailing to the states? Oh do come now, Laurent, do not leave me in such suspension. You know better than most the dangers of leaving your words hanging so."

"He wants to court me."

Jord stared at Laurent in turn, quite wide-eyed like an owl.

"Please say something, Jord. I fear I may lose all sense if you do not speak. Please tell me that I am not ill."

Jord read through the letter, going over each line again and again before he looked to Laurent again. "He has met you once, yet he seems quite set on this. Surely, you did not...talk to him?"

Laurent snatched the paper away. "No more than I am talking to you, although I am beginning to believe our conversation actually included two able minds." The sharp words meant nothing to Jord. They were old companions. Jord knew to look beyond Laurent’s biting tongue and his icy shield. That Laurent's face turning from pink to red helped as well. "He did nothing, Jord. No ladies, no boys. Not even the attendants touched him. He simply bathed, enjoyed some sweetmeats, paid for his hearth and left. Nothing else. Why he even sends... _this_ is beyond my comprehension."

"Laurent, you are a handsome man, no matter what you believe or protest. And your duty to your uncle is not easily ignored. This man seems...earnest to being your suitor; there is no fault in this. No more than the law overlooks...and we are already left behind by The Law." Laurent sat in the office's chair, twiddling his fingers over the fabric. It was a constant motion that Laurent often took to when nervous. It did nothing to calm his nerves now.

The Law of the Endowed was not a kind justice. Too many stories crossed through the brothel of witch-burnings and drownings, people vanishing in the night. There was more than one sob story here that earned their keep after running away. A known evil that the police and the wealthy turned their heads and ignored. Yes, Laurent agreed with Jord. The Law had no time for them.

"What am I to do then? I have never...had a suitor, before." Jord feigned surprised. Laurent was tempted to hit him.

"Well, it seems the only response our fine Mr. Akielon was expecting was a rejection. I do not know why given your...vast reputation. My advice would be to simply...do nothing. Let us see what his approaching at courting you will be."

Do nothing. Certainly this was something that Laurent could accomplish. By the sound of his words, Mr. Akielon had left London and returned to his estate. The letter aside, there was no mention of a day of return to London. Mr. Akielon's words had been sweet, but his actions spoke louder. Another traveler who wanted a bed and afterwards, would think nothing of it.

Yes, Laurent was settled. He would do nothing and accept when he heard no more of Mr. Akielon. With that finite decision, he took the letter and turned it to ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come check me out on [tumblr](www.conformityvictim.tumblr.com)


	3. The Reading at Vask Manor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The House offer their services at the house of Lady Halvik, and Laurent encounters a wit he had not experienced before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Oh no, he's being out-flirted!" says my wonderful beta [shelllessturtle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelllessturtle) \- it's also been loads of fun to watch/listen to Pride and Prejudice incarnations and talk about them with them. (Thank you sweetheart SOOO much for doing this)
> 
> Also, if you haven't done yet, go check out my wonderful artist [SpiritofFox](http://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritoffox) you should go do that!!! She writes too!!!
> 
> I'm almost done writing this whole thing - two more chapters, and then I'll figure out if I can schedule the chapter releases, or if I'll release it all on Sunday. Guess you'll find out soon enough!
> 
> Also, points to the people who point out any references this chapter ^_-

That was not the last Laurent heard of Mr. Akielon.

Some time would pass after the letter when Laurent would think of the tall, dark, and very handsome – in more than one aspect – gentleman again. Such a moment presented itself at Vask Manor. Owned by Lady Halvik, a highly respected and prosperous member of elite London society, the House of Vere were returning guests. This particular visit, Lady Halvik had invited other high-fashion members for her daughter Kashel to entertain with her recitations. Naturally, Laurent and his employees were invited as well, as a sort of secondary entertainment.

Laurent enjoyed these types of social calls the most. Lady Halvik was always present with a promise of good conversation, but Laurent enjoyed listening to Kashel's readings the most. Kashel was a very accomplished young lady and, were it not for the prostitutes taking care of the most predominant threat to marriage, Laurent would wonder why no one had approached her yet with an offer. Her book choices corresponded so much Laurent's and she, like her mother, had so much to say upon them. Characters that changed the world with the power of their mind, brand new worlds that could be created if only one voice spoke up. The story of a life completely changed till they could no longer recognize themselves held comfort for someone like Laurent deVere.

“Are you a fan of the works of Thomas Moore, Mr. deVere?”

The voice had taken him by surprise, Laurent had to admit. Standing against the doorway, watching the ladies and gentlemen work amongst the crowd and accepting payment when a couple politely excused themselves, he had not noticed Mr. Akielon's entrance. Nor had he spotted him amongst the listeners. Laurent cleared his throat. He corrected his posture, overcompensating without realizing it and taking the stature of a gangly adolescent. “I do believe I am. I have only heard as much as Miss Vask has shared with us, but his words do resonate with me.” Laurent turned to Mr. Akielon and considered him a moment. His composure was much the same of Laurent's first encounter with him – confident, yet relaxed in the same measure. Laurent corrected himself again, hoping to belie a relaxed state and to do so subtly. If this was Mr. Akielon's attempt at 'courting' him, Laurent wanted to make it clear such a task was not to be accomplished simply by commenting on a book. “That those in poor situations will only remain so unless their community gives pity is something I have heard, seen, and experienced for myself.”

“Ah.” Mr. Akielon stepped closer as Laurent corrected himself. Laurent felt panic for a moment, but Mr. Akielon simply turned and rested against the wall. Their shoulders touched, but only just, and Mr. Akielon gazed upon the recitation. “You speak of The Law of the Endowed, I take it? Horrible thing that – completely out of date, if I may be so bold.”

“You may.” Laurent said. He was quite bewildered. “Though how your fellow socialites may respond to you is another matter entirely.”

Mr. Akielon let a laugh pass between them, throaty with so much heart that Laurent thought he could feel some of it in his own. “It is my belief that the people of my status who hold such archaic views have not earned the work to make them so.” Mr. Akielon turned to Laurent. He towered above Laurent by a head. But looking into his eyes, Laurent did not feel crowded by his gaze, which pierced through him and froze him where he stood. “If I may be so bold.”

“You are quite bold this day, Sir. It is hardly past tea-time.”

“Whatever shall my excuse be? Can I say that it is my company?”

Laurent, for the moment, floundered for words. He battled the blush wanting to spread about his cheeks like jam on a biscuit. “Such an excuse would endanger my business, Mr. Akielon.” Laurent turned on the wall, gazing out upon the recitation just as Mr. Akielon was.

“Quite so.”

They stood in silence, a sort of companionable type that neither was in much of a hurry to end. Kashel's melodious voice drifted across the room to her audience of three in a room of 20. Lady Halvik's guest were much too occupied to appreciate the reading.

“And you, Mr. Akielon?” Laurent asked. “Do you enjoy Thomas Moore?”

Mr. Akielon nodded. “I find his points endearing – an innovator with a keen conscience and a willing to right the wrongs of the world.” Laurent nodded along. “However, I find I am drawn to the works of Moderata Fonte.”

“The 16th Century poet? Who rewrote the worth of a woman in our society with her last breath.” Laurent's own breath was taken away. “You have read her work?”

Mr. Akielon turned to Laurent, a smile stretching his mouth wide. Laurent could see equal parts mirth and genuine excitement in that smile. “I take it you have as well, Mr. deVere. I found her earth-shattering, world-changing. I would call her my idol if my own mother were not listening from her place in Heaven.” Together they laughed. Laurent would treasure that sound, whether he knew it or not.

“Truly, you are not the man I expected you to be, Mr. Akielon.”

“If that is your honest opinion, I will accept it with compliments. For to have you speak truly betwixt us is my only wish.”

The world went still for Laurent when Mr. Akielon said that. Their conversation had been so easy, so light that he had forgotten to be cautious about the other gentleman.

“I was...slightly distressed when I did not hear from you. Did you receive my letter properly?”

Laurent cleared his throat. “I did. You gave no direction for an acceptance, so no direction did I take.” He hoped the words were resolute; not shaking like his heart in his chest.

For once, it appeared Laurent had surprised Mr. Akielon who blinked owlishly following Laurent's statement. He laughed, hanging his head and shaking it before lifting it to look at Laurent once more. “No, I suppose I had not. Forgive me for such. Perhaps I had expected rejection a hair too much.”

“Well,” Laurent leaned his back against the wall once more, if only so his nervous hands could scrape against Lady Halvik's expensive crown molding. He let the word hang between them.

Mr. Akielon did not notice, or if he did did not call any attention to it. He shifted his posture, appearing even taller – if that were ever possible – and much more formal than their conversation had allowed. “Will you be attending Lady Jokaste's gala next weekend?”

Laurent recovered, finding a chance to mimic Mr. Akielon's professional stance. “We shall. The Lady has employed my entire house for the night. And I must be there, for payments, of course.”

“Of course.” The words were crass and yet, Mr. Akielon batted not an eye. “May I kiss your hand?”

Laurent was terribly shocked and so did nothing as Mr. Akielon raised his hand in his own grip. “With this kiss, I do hope that you will not hide yourself from me as you did to my letter.” And he did kiss Laurent's hand. Laurent said nothing. Mr. Akielon took a step back, gave a polite bow, and exited.

Laurent, when he returned to his body from that strange place one's mind goes to when their heart is racing much too fast, sought out Jord across the nearly empty room. Jord took in his friend's blushing face and wide, blue eyes, and nodded knowingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come check me out on [tumblr](https://www.conformityvictim.tumblr.com)


	4. Mr. Akielon's Second Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Akielon sends another letter, and Jord imparts a much needed dose of reality to Laurent. Whether or not he listens to it is a completely different matter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAH!!!!! HOW IN THE WORLD DID I FINISH WRITING THIS OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!!!!
> 
> So all the chapters are finished. [shelllessturtle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelllessturtle) is beta-ing them and I am eternally grateful unto their hard work. I may be re-doing a few chapters here and there as need be.
> 
> So I'm still waiting to see if I can stagger these chapters or to have it all done on Sunday. It's a bit of waiting game.
> 
> But nevermind all that - enjoy!

The mailman arrived just as he always did, two days after Lady Halvik's recitations. Laurent accepted the mail from a servant with no apprehension consciously present. Yet as he found a letter addressed to him, in a scrawl that he had slowly become familiar, due to an increased frequency in the reading of Mr. Akielon's first letter, Laurent wondered if perhaps, after such an aweful intercourse, he had always been wishing to hear from the man again.

It worried him. Laurent was not a man easily worried. The days when the police stuck their heads in with no coin in their pocket or a doctor came with his glasses pushed up and his breeches firmly buttoned did Laurent worry for his business or his small rabble of a family. That Mr. Akielon could stir such feeling in him, and in so short a time, was a matter worth of worrying in and of itself. Laurent refrained from biting at his lip in apprehension as he broke the seal.

The letter read:

_To one Mr. Laurent deVere,_

_It is my hope that after our conversation at Lady Halvik's, that you are in preparation for Lady Jokaste's. I hope this, for I am beside myself with excitement at the thought of seeing you once more. I ask that you pardon me should my hand shake – my nerves have had naught a day's rest without thoughts of you._

_I must confess, it was not my intent to dominate our conversation as I had that day. It is truly an error I have relived every night since as I close my eyes to sleep. I want to know you better, Mr. deVere, most ardently. But as I saw you against the wall, listening intently, my mind grew blank and I was transfixed. By pliant lips that I have never kissed, but have heard such lovely melodies uttered. By your beautiful hands that have burned my fingers in such a manner I am pleased to say I will never forget. By your stature and posture that told of such enviable strength and confidence that I was left breathless, with this heavy feeling inside my breast. Suddenly, it was as if I was sitting behind a curtain and watching myself on the other side converse about Utopia and silent letters._

_I do not regret our moments, though, Mr. deVere, in all my honesty. Your thoughts on the proceedings of our society gave me a glimpse into your mind. It has only endeared me to your favor even further: I do not know how my heart will bear more affection that it already does. On my honor, I would have it no other way._

Laurent was not done reading the letter as he realized his fingers had been tracing over the bumps and divots the ink had left behind in the paper. More surprising than that, Laurent felt the skin of his cheeks flushed with blood. There was no fire lit in the office.

“Is that another letter, Laurent?”

Laurent held back a jump of surprise. Jord stood at the door, a John of his exiting behind him without a second glance. Jord blinked his eyes and Laurent’s office door closed, leaving the two alone. Laurent pursed his lips as he closed the letter.

“It is, Jord.”

“This is his second letter then?” Jord paced about the room, his strong arms folded across his chest. His behaviour feigned the appearance of disinterest and mundanity, but Laurent's skin prickled. Prey spying a predator through the grass, and trying to appear intimidating in retaliation. This cold distance was no way for a dear friend to speak to another – much less for an worker to investigate his employer.

“It is.” Laurent replied, his words plain and to the point.

Jord nodded his head and made a noise noncommittal in the back of his throat. His fingers dusted along the mantle, rubbing together though he knew intimately well Laurent's dedication to absolute cleanliness. “A whore is the last person one would expect to hold their tongue.” Laurent said. “Whatever it is you mean to say, I would have you say it at once.”

“A whore's owner is the last person one would expect to be a virgin.” Jord replied. Laurent watched his face split into a horrible grin and knew his own was all too red at the secret. Laurent was, in all sense of romance, affection, and intimacy, a virgin. “Be careful of your words, Laurent,” Jord interrupted before Laurent could speak against him in anger and shame, “whether they be pretty or no. They hold weight.”

The letter grazed the edges of Laurent's fingertips. The sensation calmed him until his cheeks were once more pale and white. Jord was a friend, possibly Laurent’s only in the entire world: He was the first one Laurent showed part of his true self to, behind his frozen demeanor. That Jord was warning him against debate before Laurent could consider it, it was just another startling reminder how much Mr. Akielon had affected him. Laurent rounded the desk, approaching his friend in a sincere manner. “Apologies, friend. I spoke too soon. Whatever you come to say, I will hear it without burden.” He clasped Jord's shoulder.

Opposite Jord did the same, giving it a tight squeeze. “My apologies as well – I spoke to grab your attention. I only mean to warn you, my friend. Be careful, Laurent. Your gentleman has land, prestige, title and a heritage to go with it. You may speak with him however you like, but men like him, will do what it takes to survive in this world. As you say, it is a whore's duty is to know her customer’s struggles.” Laurent remained silent. Jord tipped his head up, looking into his blue, blue eyes and that unintentional pout. “My words come from a heavy heart of heavy years. We are not the ones to share the marriage bed, Laurent.”

Laurent's lips turned upwards, albeit bitterly. “I wonder which part of me you are referring to. The sodomite or the stone-cold bitch?”

Jord took the bait, fortunate for Laurent, and smiled alongside him. He squeezed tighter and pulled Laurent around so that they both may see the fire. Laurent was grateful for the change in position; Jord would not see the faux satire leave his eyes.

Jord faced the fire, so he did not see Laurent look back at his desk. A leather-bound book. He hadn't seen what Mr. Akielon had sent him. Turning back to the fireplace, he read what he had not before, illuminated by the firelight.  
  
 _I have sent my personal copy of Thomas Hobbes' Leviathan to accompany this letter. It is my wish to continue our conference next we meet and, if you are so inclined, to do so over a dance._

_I remain, your humble suitor,_

_Damianos Akielon._

He had saved the first letter. Carefully thawed it before the fireplace and pressed it in a book – in his uncle's copy of Utopia. He would save this one, too. It was only the second letter. Jord had seen many men more than twice before he blacked them from his record book. For a small while longer, as Laurent stared into the fire, he could have his fleeting courtship to escape into before waking from this perfect dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come visit me on [tumblr](conformityvictim.tumblr.com)


	5. The Gala of Lady Jokaste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The highly anticipated dance at the house of Lady Jokaste

The house of Lady Jokaste was opulent and grand. The stone of the building glistened in the rising moonlight and inside, white marble reflected the firelight of the chandelier. Laurent observed the architecture from his spot in the hall. It had certainly earned its name of “ArchAngel Manor.”

Laurent watched through the crowd, turning people into no more than window panes when he needed to find a worker. At a young age, he had learned to follow each employee of the House with his eye at all time. His hand, independent from his body, wrote down the time someone left with someone and the time they came back without Laurent ever needing to think about it (another trick learned early on.) Lady Jokaste had bought the house out for the entire evening and Laurent planned to bill her accordingly. Her steward, a sickly man no less than triple Laurent's senior, gave his word that he would keep records for his sake, but Laurent would hear none of it. If he was not keeping the books, he had no reason to be there.

“Mr. deVere.”

Well, he had almost no reason to be there.

“Mr. Akielon.” Laurent bowed, surreptitiously sliding his notebook into his trouser pocket while doing so. “You have just arrived, I assume?”

“Ah, no. The Lady Jokaste and I are good friends – I came before any of her invited guests arrived. Time ran away with us, I am afraid. My apologies if you were waiting.” Mr. Akielon laughed at his joke, heartedly at first and then, meekly when Laurent did not join in.

“I see.” Laurent's fingers grazed across each other. The movement had become repetitive in the past few days, a touch of ice at his fingers to remind him of the feeling of paper. It seemed the only way for his mind to clear when thinking of Mr. Akielon, and he needed a clear head to speak. “Thank you for your book. I found it most stimulating.”

The aforementioned meekness of Mr. Akielon vanished without a trace, replaced by a dazzling smile. “You have read Leviathan, then?”

“I must have, in order to find it stimulating.”

Mr. Akielon chuckled, shaking his head. “That is true.” He gestured to the dance floor behind him. “Would you favor me with a dance, so that we may discuss your findings?” Laurent nodded and stepped forward, ready for the jovial response as such an obvious jest.

He did not expect Mr. Akielon to take his hand and lead them into the thick of the dancing couples, just as the next song was beginning. Laurent had been schooled with the other ladies of The House, and thus knew well enough his steps, that embarrassment he did excuse himself. But he was not an ignorant man – he could see the scene laid before the guests of Lady Jokaste.

“Ios must be quite wonderful.” Laurent remarked as the dance began.

“It is. I hope you may one day see it for yourself. The weather is quite pleasant, when one is dressed properly.” Mr. Akielon turned to Laurent and his eyes roamed over him in a fashion Laurent had seen many times before from his lecherous – and unsuccessful – suitors. The look in those eyes, however, was not hungry and lustful like a starving man eyeing a rack of lamb. They noted the garments Laurent wore and assessed their suitability - their poor suitability, it seemed - for Ios. Nothing more - much like anything Mr. Akielon did. Familiar, but only just.

“The people of Ios must be very bold. I cannot think of one London man who would dance with an Endowed whore so publicly.” Laurent watched nearby patrons falter the slur. His hand squeezed around Mr. Akielon's. “Some would think it 'not proper.'”

“They are the same people who would protest a prostitute at a gala, despite your queue of customers tonight alone.” To his surprise, it seemed Mr. Akielon felt no remorse at the action. They faced each other and Mr. Akielon smiled. “If there is a law against such an honor, I am happy not to be bound to it. Though I do wish you would not refer to yourself – and by extension, your employees – in such a manner.” Mr. Akielon stepped forward in time with the violins and Laurent felt his breath catch at his throat. “Those gazes you feel are directed at me, for I am dancing with the most accomplished businessman in all of London, and they are not.”

“I have never thought myself a businessman.” Laurent's confession tumbled out of him in an astonished whisper. He blinked up at Mr. Akielon. “I must confess, Mr. Akielon, that you have caught me by surprise. However shall I respond?”

“My love is thine to teach – teach it but how, and thou shalt see how apt it is to learn.”

“We were talking about Thomas Hobbes, Mr. Akielon. When did The Immortal Bard enter into our dance?”

“My ears await your thoughts.” Mr. Akielon said, as he lead the dance. Laurent stepped around a couple. He ignored their judging glares, he told himself.

“It is interesting that you picked The Leviathan _.”_ A wide, sweeping turn and Laurent faked a smile. “We give up our freedom in exchange for absolute perfect treatment. I think you are the one with thoughts, Mr. Akielon.”

“Do you know what a citizen is to do, when they do not receive perfect treatment?” Laurent did not, so he waited for Mr. Akielon to continue. “Those in charge are removed, and replaced with someone who can fulfill the contract as needed.”

“Are you inspiring an Endowed rebellion, Mr. Akielon?” Laurent stepped closer. He pitched his voice low; both a flirt and a secret. “Be careful with your words – they hold weight.” At that moment, Laurent caught Jord's disproving eyes across the room. The song ended and Laurent pulled away. The crowd applauded the musicians, overshadowing Laurent clearing his throat. “I am sorry, I have forgotten what we were talking about. Excuse me, Mr. Akielon.”

“Wait, please, Mr. deVere.” Mr. Akielon caught his hand. New and old couples prepared for the next dance and so the two of them stepped aside. Laurent didn't realize it but Mr. Akielon brought him out to the midnight patio. The Lady Jokaste had a lake behind her house, that reflected the moon and stars in a painting.

“Please, Mr. deVere - my mouth it seems runs away with me whenever you are near. I didn’t mean any insult to you or your employees or your profession or - ”

Laurent held up a hand and Mr. Akielon stopped his ramblings. _He is in earnest_ , Laurent realized. How strange - for a man of such standing to be as preoccupied with a brothel owner as Mr. Akielon was. _Maybe...Jord’s warning…_ “You have done me no disservice, Mr. Akielon. Truth, you have showered me with patience and compliments. I feel that I should be apologizing to you, as I have done nothing to show I reciprocate your intentions.”

“Do you, reciprocate my affections? I pray you, speak plainly. My mind has not the patience to unravel such a heavy confession.”

Mr. Akielon had closed the distance between them without Laurent noticing until that very moment, when he could feel the heat pouring off of the large man, with such bright eyes that stars swam in their reflection. He was not unhandsome, very far from such. He looked at Laurent with such a warmth he had never seen before. “I believe I could.” Laurent whispered to the night.

Mr. Akielon’s face broke into a smile. Perhaps Laurent’s did as well.

“Compliments and gifts - is that not how London courtship is done?”

“I do not pretend to know.” Laurent replied. He cleared his throat. _You are too close_. He wanted to say, but did not at the same time. What a contradiction the past few weeks had made Laurent unto himself. “London men do not spend much thought on the whores they buy.”

Mr. Akielon actually laughed, a soft and light sound. “You have said as much. But, Mr. deVere, I hope you will take these words to heart.” And Mr. Akielon approached even closer still, his voice even softer than Laurent’s flirting tone back on the ballroom floor. Laurent did not find objection within him. “You have the potential to be so much more than you are.”

The gentle lilting of flutes traveled out onto the patio. Both of their attentions were drawn to it. They watched through the windows as patrons shuffled about the ballroom floor; couples leaving and couples joining. “Another dance is beginning.” Laurent looked to Mr. Akielon the moment he lifted a hand. “Would you honor me with another dance?”

Laurent smiled, but only just, a small thing. “Yes, but let us not go inside just yet. I enjoy the fresh air and the music is too loud inside.”

“Do you not need to chaperone your employees?”

“They will monitor themselves if they wish for an honest paycheck.” Laurent rounded Mr. Akielon into position, stepping back into his mask as a coy brothel owner as he did so. Something had changed, though, following that heartfelt apology and subsequent confession. They danced in silence, which many would think it odd to be silent for half an hour. Laurent had never felt so comfortable before, and Mr. Akielon did not push for conversation either.

Their silence was broken Jord stepped out onto the patio and the song drew to a close. He cleared his throat quite obscenely to announce his presence. “Mr. Akielon, your cousin is looking for you. He seemed to be quite urgent.”

Mr. Akielon nodded, then looked at Laurent. “Am I correct in assuming he is one of your employees? I saw you two arrive together.”

“He is - Jord Arles, my oldest and most trusted companion.” Laurent extricated himself from Mr. Akielon’s hands. He held Jord’s eye for a comment he may have.

“Mr. Arles - thank you for finding me. Excuse me.”

Mr. Akielon walked away as Jord walked forward. Laurent turned around and stared out across the lake. They said nothing. It was nothing like the silence between him and Mr. Akielon, so full of promises yet to be made. Laurent dug his boots into the gravel and the crunching stones filled the space between them.

“Do you remember Orlant, Laurent?” Jord said suddenly.

A towering figure, much like Jord and Mr. Akielon, Orlant had worked at the House of Vere when Laurent was a small boy, back when he lived with his father and brother. A friendly face framed by fire hair appeared like a long-forgotten dream, in and out of focus. “He left the House before I began working for my uncle. I did not question why.”

“He was born the son of a whore. Normal, but not unkind to our people, and so your uncle took him in when he darkened our doorway. He worked well. A few times, he could turn more men than anyone else in the House.” Laurent looked amazed at Jord. That was a title Jord _currently_ held, and he did not hold it lightly. “You would have been just a boy when he left. With ruin at their heels, his father’s only choice was to acknowledge him and take him away. Orlant gave us no consideration, and has not to this day.”

A moment, another, and Laurent stepped closer to Jord. He clasped his friend’s arm in comfort. “Did you love him, Jord?” Jord looked out across the starry lake. Laurent had his answer. “This is why you warned me, yes?”

“Mine was the last face he saw, walking out of the door. My heart has not recovered since, I think.” Jord turned to face Laurent. “We exchanged vows, Laurent, and still he left me behind.”

Laurent’s eyes turned downcast. This moment felt too private; he was looking in on something Jord had never shared before, and probably never wanted to if it wasn’t necessary for Laurent’s understanding. “Seeing what Mr. Akielon’s response would be - it was your advice I followed.”

“I did not expect him to respond at all, Laurent. Neither did you, I know. He is earnest and kind, but this is London. The man who seems a paragon of virtue may be a coward to the will of the world.” Jord turned to Laurent. Blue eyes met opalescent hazel; Laurent was held in place. “No matter what they may say, I implore you to listen to me. We are not the heroes of a fairy story. Our life is not a pretty one.”

Laurent bit his tongue. His blue eyes dimmed, hiding away from the moonlight. Cynicism climbed back into his heart - it had vanished in Mr. Akielon’s presence - and nestled home in its rightful spot. “But it is a fine life.” He forced himself to smiling, rueful and bursting with spite.

Jord did not smile back. He clasped Laurent’s shoulder in response. “I am sorry, old friend.” Laurent nodded.

Mr. Akielon returned. Another man followed him not far behind. Laurent noticed their features were very similar - dark hair framing chiseled features, an intimidating stature of darkened skin. _The cousin_. Laurent realized, even if he did not realize how his smile had immediately warmed at the return.

“Mr. deVere - some business has happened in Ios that I must see to immediately. Will you give me leave to attend to it?”

Laurent chuckled. “Should you not ask Lady Jokaste to pardon you? She is our gracious host.” The cousin cleared his throat in a practiced moved to cover a laugh. Nobody was fooled. “I excuse you. Be it far from me to keep a man from his estate.”

“I shall write to you the moment I have the chance, Mr. deVere.” Just as he had at Lady Halvik’s, Laurent’s hand was grabbed and kissed without him even knowing it. Mr. Akielon looked at Jord. “Mr. Arles, I hope to meet you again, and to know you better.” He nodded to them both. “Good night.” And removed himself.

Laurent looked to Jord. Jord looked to Laurent.

“Mr. Akielon is a fine man. I must say he does not seem someone who looks to hurt you.” Jord said.

“He does not.” Laurent cleared his throat. He fought against the croak in his throat. This conversation had happened before and his heart still felt heavy. The moon rippled over the lake.

_Be careful, dear friend._ Jord’s gaze insisted.

_I want to be_. Laurent said to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm gonna disappoint both the mods and myself here, but hopefully you readers will be happy!
> 
> So, the Big Bang is over today, and the mods are wanting all the pieces uploaded today. However, I had my good friend [shelllessturtle](archiveofourown.org/users/shelllessturtle), who isn't a part of Captive Prince (yet...hahaha) beta it, because they're the one who got me into Pride & Prejudice in the first place. And things have been kinda rough for them lately, so they haven't gotten through all of it (and there's a lot of it, don't worry)
> 
> So here's the plan - I will release the chapters as soon as I get them. I have one more after this and then, I'll probably have more in the next few days. This'll be finished in a few days, so stay tuned!!!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's been reading along!!!! I love all of your comments <3 <3 <3


	6. Mr. Akielon's Third Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another letter arrives, prompting Laurent and Jord to discuss their emotions.

A week passed by without pomp nor circumstance. Laurent spent his nights busy by the hearth of his bedroom: organizing pays and expenses for the House, accepting and declining events that would close the House based on their profitability, and rereading through his library. What book would Mr. Akielon send him this time? Would it be more philosophy, or perhaps economic practices to better the brothel’s business. He tried his best to hide his anticipation of another letter from Jord.

A letter arrived ten days later and Laurent was handed it by Jord himself on top of more requests. He gave Laurent a stern eye but any verbal admonitions to himself before he left to welcome a customer at the door. Laurent waved down a servant and told her to ready a pot of rosemary tea - Jord’s favorite - for when he was finished.

The letter was accompanied by no book, but the words inside it more than sufficed.

_Dear Laurent deVere,_

_My business is Ios will delay me on my return to London. My heart is saddened by this, for it means a longer separation from you._

_Once again, I feel I must apologize for my behavior at Lady Jokaste’s. From your words, your actions, and rebuttals that accepting a suitor is not an action you take lightly. I wish to ensure that courting you is not a whimsical decision on my part either. Following this letter, the pace of our relationship shall be defined by you. I am but your servant, Mr. deVere. It is my intention, though, to firstly clarify a few things._

_Our first meeting in your parlor had me pulled into the orbit of the star that is you. I had tried, and since have tried, to be respond in a calm manner. You have melted all my defenses with your sunburst. Your smile reached into my heart, your determination making home in my soul. By the time I was made aware, it was much too late. I believe now only God himself could keep me from seeking your attention._

_Do not be afraid that my affections will dim, now that I place the directions of our relationship to your guidance. My intentions are not hindered and will not hesitate. Let us have an understanding of this one thing between us._

_I am yours._

_I understand, with more knowledge than I can reveal to you at this time, just what the world may have done to your perception of love and companionship. You are not wrong to be wary of me, nor is Mr. Arles in his concern for your well-being. Please extend my well wishes to him, and my many thanks for his years by your side._

_I hope that you two, one day, may open yourself to the freedoms that come with accepting the chance to love. Human beings of all types - those who love men, those who love women, those with and without extrasensory perception - are predisposed to falling in love_ _._ _To fight against it is to fight against one’s nature - an uphill battle if ever there was one. One that is, at this moment, needless._

_I hope, when I see you again, that you will deem me worthy of accepting the full bend of my affections. But until then, I await your actions._

_I remain, your humble suitor,_

_Damianos Akielon_

Just the simple greeting of ‘dear’ made this letter feel so very personal to Laurent. He had fallen into that secret place that seemed only to exist when Mr. Akielon and he spoke alone. Laurent held the letter close to his heart and closed his eyes. If he thought really hard, he fantasized he could almost smell Mr. Akielon’s cologne wafting off the page.

What he could actually smell was the heady scent of rosemary.

Opening his eyes, Laurent looked to his desk. Jord sat in his chair, a tray of steaming tea in front of him. “Jord - my apologies. I did not hear you come in.” Laurent cleared his throat. He folded the letter and placed it inside his book - a collection of Aristotle’s speeches and debates - before he stood and walked to the desk. Coming closer, he noticed that one of the tea-cups was filled, but cold, while the other two were steaming hot and ready. He looked at Jord. “How long have you been sitting there?”

“Long enough that the tea I brought you went cold, I boiled a new pot, poured it out, and stirred it to your exact likings.” Laurent raised an eyebrow and in an act of defiance raised the cup to his lips. He almost hoped it would be bitter, but Jord had known him for years, knew he took his tea sickly sweet and milky. The teacup hid his blush. Jord raised an eyebrow back. “What did he have to say today?”

Laurent cleared his throat. The tea soothed his throat, giving him time to find his words. Laurent and Jord switched seats, because Jord knew Laurent would feel more confident in his elevated armchair and thus, would speak more honestly. “He actually expressed his gratitude to you.”

“Me? Whatever for?”

“For your concern on his intentions.” Jord was taken by surprise. Laurent enjoyed the look. In the far reaches of his mind he wondered if this was what Mr. Akielon saw when he surprised Laurent. “He says that he will not rush me again to accept his affections, but would rather I try to be more open to their approaches.”

“He does seem the type of man who will not continue something that is fruitless.”

“But should he find a trying sapling in a barren field, he is determined to nurture it to grow.” With his free hand Laurent ran his hand over his book, knowing what was inside.

“And will you? Accept his affections?” Jord leaned close. Proprietary kept him from leaning his elbows against the birch desk, otherwise Jord may very well have been clamouring over it in anticipation of Laurent’s response.

Laurent cleared his throat again. He placed the cup back on its saucer on the tray. “I will tell you the same I told him at ArcAngel Manor.”

Jord’s gaze was owlish - wide and unblinking.

“I believe I could.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah - tl;dr version of Ch. 5 - there's not really gonna be a posting schedule. I'll be releasing them as soon as they're beta'ed. Thank you all for reading.
> 
> Come visit me on [tumblr](conformityvictim.tumblr.com)


	7. Mr. Akielon's Fourth Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurent becomes acquainted with the illusive cousin of Mr. Akielon, and makes a bold move himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to my wonderful beta [shelllessturtle](archiveofourown.org/users/shelllessturtle) who has been beta-ing - and will continue beta-ing.
> 
> Also - enjoy longer chapters!~

Whatever business Mr. Akielon had in Ios, a month had gone by since Laurent received his last letter. The summer months were fast approaching and thus, the early hours of the ‘night’, when streams of sunlight still made travel exhausting, even in a carriage, were quiet and business on a whole had begun to lull. Laurent in turn accepted more invitations: The manors of the upper-class were much better insulated and in conjunction with a revolving door of customers, the House also received a commission on top of it all.

Laurent was plotting all of these points, including the most suitable way to debut the newest class of employees - a set of blue-eyed, redheaded twins just legal, a buxom brunette fresh to London, and a timid boy with faux innocence shining in brown eyes - at an upcoming ball when Jord knocked on his door. “There is a gentleman here to see you.”

If Jord had meant Mr. Akielon, Laurent trusted he would have said so, thus Laurent did not look up from his papers. “Send him away. Or, better yet, send him to Ancel.”

Jord chuckled. “Ancel is nothing like you.”

“Exactly.”

Jord had crossed the room from doorway to desk in a breath, leaning close to whisper in Laurent’s ear. “It is the cousin, Laurent.”

The papers on the desk fluttered away. It was by Jord’s reflex they did not flutter to the floor for Laurent to step over while he rushed to the door.

“Mr. deVere, it is great to officially make your acquaintance. My cousin speaks very highly of you.”

His name was Nikandros Kyroi and despite his similarities to Mr. Akielon, he was actually older than him. “And his brother.” He said, when Laurent invited him into his office for tea. 

Laurent swallowed over a sudden lump in his throat. “I...was not aware Mr. Akielon  _ had _ a brother.” He did not know why, but this revelation set Laurent on edge. If Mr. Akielon had younger siblings, the pressure on him to marry properly would be far greater, would it not? For his siblings to have any standing in society of his own. Perhaps accepting Mr. Akielon was a bad idea…

“Yes…” The last sound of the word trailed off in Mr. Kyroi’s mouth, but only for a moment. “Kastor is...a unique gentleman. I watched them grow into boyhood and in adolescents, they became my schoolmates. Both Damen and Kastor are very brilliant, when they set their minds on something.”

“Indeed.” Laurent sipped on his tea, a minty set today, sent up by Nicaise. He was the youngest of the House, at eleven-years-old, and fortunately he was only a servant. Laurent kept a watchful eye on the boy, guarding over him almost like a father would their child. In most respects, Nicaise  _ was _ Laurent’s child and thus, he expressly forbade Nicaise from joining any social functions as an attendant or working the hallways during open hours. Above all, Nicaise was to focus on his studies, which were whatever the other whores would teach him. Laurent held a small flicker of hope inside that Nicaise might escape this life before he was of legal age.

Nicaise responded to this care with small jests like stealing Laurent’s favorite books, or glaring at him across the dinner table with his uncle present. Or sending up unpleasantly bitter teas. But Laurent had merely thanked him with a smile. Nicaise did not need to think he had won the battle.

Laurent sipped on the tea repeatedly until he felt the blush on his cheeks diminish. Hopefully unnoticed to Mr. Kyroi, he let loose a wave of cold over his skin. Jord turned a teasing eye to him, but said nothing about Laurent’s lackadaisical use of his abilities.

“We have noticed.” Jord said. He turned his attention to Mr. Kyroi before the movement was noticed. “His advances on our Laurent have been quite the gossip about Vere.” Laurent, rather indiscreetly, snorted and began to choke on his tea. Jord chuckled under his breath and made no move to help his friend. “I would not be surprised if Mr. Akielon was writing sonnets for him at this very moment.”

“Ah!” Mr. Kyroi raised his hand and lowered his tea back to its saucer. “Ask and ye shall receive, Mr. Arles.” From Mr. Kyroi’s inside pocket a small, yet hefty parcel. “My visit is not a social one. My cousin has tasked me with delivering this personally. He worried its contents would be stolen away by the members of the household.” Laurent noticed a look of mischief between Mr. Kyroi and Jord, when he finally recovered. He glared at Jord who in turned showed no regret. He took the parcel.

It was wrapped with brown paper and tied together with twine. Inside, Laurent first spied a letter and his heart soared through his chest into the sky. At the bottom of his bottomost left drawer the stack of letters from Mr. Akielon was already quite thick. Adding more to it was a blessing. Mr. Akielon had also sent another book. Amateurly bound together, it was a little more than loose sheets of paper, with no title or author on the cover.

It may have been the most important book Laurent ever received.

“I believe this is the first time I have been dismissed wordlessly.” Jord said, his voice far-away. “Come Mr. Kyroi - I will show you out.”

“Yes.” Laurent blinked and came back to himself. He smiled at Mr. Kyroi. “Thank you very much for your kindness, Mr. Kyroi. Please, have Jord take you to his quarters - they are very lavish.” Laurent shifted his gaze to Jord. “Free of charge, of course.”

Jord’s expression ranged from a spiteful scorn for Laurent and guileful for possibilities unnamed. “Of course, Mr. deVere.” His shoulders dropped, Jord stepped closer than proper and wrapped an arm around Mr. Kyroi’s arm. “Come Mr. Kyroi - I will show you to my rooms.”

Mr. Kyroi laughed. It was a rich sound that Laurent thought Mr. Kyroi did not make often. A lucky thing that Jord could create it. “With company like this, I would happily turn into a pauper. Please, lead the way. Good Day, Mr. deVere.”

Laurent broke the seal as soon as the door closed.

_ My dearest Laurent deVere, _

_ It is with great pains and great joy that I must explain my arduous time away from London. Things have not been as they should and I have been applying solution after solution to resolve them. I lie awake at night wishing I had brought you with me. Perhaps your calculating mind would create answers I have not even considered. _

_ It is my hope, however, that as you are reading this, my journey to you shall be in preparations. Moreover, I hope to spend every waking moment by your side. _

_ In my absence, I send you another gift from one of my invested lands in Denmark. A young man with almost as brilliant a mind as your own, he writes day and night. I was able to convince him to send me a copy of his stories and to you I send them. I do not need them, for you are my fairy tale and my very own happy ending. My faraway prince, just a dream’s worth out of reach. _

_ You have me bewitched, Mr. deVere, body and soul. No matter what pain may come in the future, what insanity may befall me, I am cursed. I have no desire to be freed from your grasp. _

_ Pray for me, Mr. deVere. For I think of you every night. _

_ With affection, _

_ Damianos Akielon _

Laurent’s cheeks were a burning red and he had not a care for it. Trembling fingers folded the letter oh so carefully and he placed it in its respective drawer. Energy bubbled inside of him, confidence he had never felt in his life. He wanted...oh gods, he wanted…

Laurent grabbed a pen and fresh paper.

_ To Mr. Akielon, _

No, that was much too formal. Mr. Akielon had always toed the line of formality, including Laurent’s given name as well as his surname. He crossed it out and began again.

_ To Damianos, _

Laurent’s face, if it was even possible, flared an even hotter red. That...may take familiarity a touch too far. He began again, once more.

_ Dear  _ Laurent’s hand hovered above the paper.  _ Damianos Akielon, _

Yes, yes that would do.

_ I receive your present in high spirits. I have not read the man’s works yet, for I write to you straight away lest I lose my nerve. _

_ I must tell you plainly. I fear my silence has gone on for too long, so I must speak now. Your letters bring me such happiness upon their arrival. Lecherous invitations and the holler of money-lenders have become much too commonplace for The House of Vere. The seal of the Akielon family is a shining beacon amongst it all, much as you have become a beacon, letting color into my black and white world. _

_ Jord whispers in my ear that your courtship of me has become quite the talk of the House. I will neither deny nor confirm any word about it to my employees, but I will not shame them for whatever they may say. Jord whispers in Mr. Kyroi’s ear now. I know not how Jord may retaliate to me, once he recovers. _

_ On your return, would you be so kind as to escort me to Kew Park for a picnic? _

Laurent almost did not believe his hand had written those words. Had he truly called upon Mr. Akielon? A man twice his station, no, three times - had he no shame? Oh, and to such a public place. Mr. Akielon was not the only one cursed. Laurent continued hastily.

_ Our cooks are employed highly regarded. They can make whatever dishes you may like. The gardens are bountiful and full of beauty; it is a sight any London-goer must see at once. _

_ If you are so inclined, you may bring your cousin and I will shall have Jord be our chaperone. They are a good match, I believe. I leave the convincing of Mr. Kyroi to you. Though I trust it shall not be a hard convincing. _

Laurent bit his lip. His fingertips were steadily dyed black with ink, for he fingered the pentip as he sorted his thoughts. Mr. Akielon said it was now up to Laurent to advance their relationship. Laurent dearly wanted to: He wanted to fight against the fear and unease in his stomach. Mr. Akielon had always signed his letters with such affection. If only Laurent could do the same.

_ My hearth is warm and friendly. My place will evermore be beside it until you have returned. _

He swallowed over his apprehension, moving the pen on last time.

_ Your prince, _

_ Laurent. _

Laurent threw his pen across the room so he would not be tempted to cross out anything more. When his hands shook to tear the paper in half, he clung tightly to the arms of his chair. He had done it, written back with all the tenderness he could dredge up from his heart. What would Mr. Akielon do now, that he knew he had ensnared Laurent? Would he demand Laurent warm his bed? Would he approach his uncle with an offer of marriage? That would be a sight, would it not? Laurent had never felt his mind whirl around and around like this.

“You look ill.”

Laurent raised his head. Nicaise was in the doorway, a new tray of tea balancing on the palm of his other hand. “What have you brought me, little boy?”

“Not so little.” Nicaise responded automatically, as he did whenever Laurent teased him. “Ginger tea.”

“My, I must have truly upset you. I did not think my uncle had any.”

“It was on sale, so I bought some. And Jord told me to bring it to you.” Nicaise placed the tray beside the mint one, mindlessly pouring a cup for Laurent. “What did you do to your hands?”

Laurent looked and finally noticed for himself the ink stains. His eyes went to the letter and so did Nicaise’s. “Is that for him? The Damianos person?”

“So informal - what have the ladies been teaching you?” Laurent leaned forward and cupped Nicaise’s face, purposefully smudging the ink across his skin. Nicaise pulled away, rubbing furiously to remove it. He failed. “It is. I have invited him to a picnic in Kew Park.”

Nicaise’s eyebrows rose into his mop of brown curls. “Kew Park? You won’t even let the ladies go there in the daylight. Are you serious, Laurent?” Laurent titled his head, which he knew was not an answer, and drank his tea in one go despite the insulting nature of the motion. This day was too much to not be bold.

Nicaise grabbed a hand towel and soaked it with hot water from a kettle. He took Laurent’s hand in his and began to clean his fingers. This was very unlike Nicaise, for he was not one for physical contact, not even for Laurent who he trusted very much. “Nicaise?”

“I want to meet him. I don’t trust anyone I haven’t seen and if I don’t trust him, then he is not for you.” Nicaise did not look at Laurent, but the older man felt true sincerity seep into his skin. With one hand clean, Nicaise dried it with the other end and moved onto the other. Laurent tilted his head up with that hand, looking deeply into his bright blue eyes, so very much like his own.

“And thus, you shall meet him.” He smiled. “Thank you, Nicaise.” He did not thank the boy for the the ink off his hands. Nicaise wordlessly returned to the other side of the desk and nodded. Laurent folded the letter precisely with clean edges and sealed it. A simple ‘V’ glistened in silver wax. “Give this to Mr. Kyroi. You will find him in Jord’s room.”

“By the noises inside, I believe they are occupied.”

Laurent snorted. “I am not surprised. I can wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SCREW HISTORICAL ACCURACY - I HAVE GREEN HAIR!!!


	8. The Appearance of Reginald deVere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the acceptance of Laurent's invitation, Damianos Akielon meets the owner of the House of Vere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we have a full cast list! (Almost - got a few more tricks up my sleeves~) Enjoy the Regent, everyone!

Ten days passed till Mr. Akielon next presented himself at The House of Vere, giving Laurent’s letter plenty of time to travel and his invitation to be heartily accepted, so said Mr. Kyroi. Mr. Kyroi had fast become a regular, and one of Jord’s favorite, even though Laurent’s employees were not allowed to have favorites. 

The two were not always hidden away in Jord’s chambers; Mr. Kyroi’s visits were shared by Laurent as well. They had found a common ground in historical economics and business practices. Mr. Kyroi recommended him a local butcher, half the distance away and at half the prices of the one he usually went to. “And he is very kind towards...to the Endowed.” Mr. Kyroi’s voice faded away, lost in his tea a beat too late to be natural. Laurent did not let the awkward moment bother him. Not everyone could be perfect and he should have anticipated some underlying prejudice. It was enough the man did not object to taking tea with a sodomite.

“Indeed.” He had said.

It was Nicaise who opened the door for Mr. Akielon. All smiles, darkened by his time in Ios, Mr. Akielon tipped his hat to the boy. “How are you, young sir?”

Nicaise did not take his hat, not the Mr. Akielon offered it, but Nicaise did not offer neither. (Laurent would have to test his manners again later, and teach him how to observe subtly.) He eyed Mr. Akielon up and down in so obvious a manner. “You’re trying to screw Laurent.”

Mr. Akielon did not choke in surprise, nor scoff at Nicaise’s crude tone, which Laurent found most favorable. He rescinded his hand and tossed his head back to laugh. “It is my intention to make Mr. deVere happy. If we are ever together, it shall be by his choice alone.”

“Abiding by anyone else’s choice would find you a lacking man.” Laurent spoke from atop the staircase, descending with half of a faux smile. The other half was very, very true. “Nicaise, you are supposed to be studying this time of day.”

“I’m taking a break. You primped too pretty for him - you said gentlemen are supposed to work for love. That’s why they pay us, because we’re easy.” Laurent fixed Nicaise with a hard gaze. Thoughts whirled inside his head; which would he choose? Nicaise’s blunt informal manner, his incorrect grammar, or his total disregard for secrecy or propriety. He decided to grab at the scruff of Nicaise’s shirt and pulling him onto a step. Nicaise went to his room without a word.

The moment he was gone, Laurent had wished he would stay. The air was heavy in the foyer. It was too soon to leave, but torture to stay any longer.

“He does not lie. You are...very...beautiful, today.” For the first time, Laurent looked Mr. Akielon in the eyes. They were bright. Laurent wondered what it was in Ios that affected him so.

He looked down at himself. Laurent did not often leave the house in the daytime and thus did not own many colored garments. But Jord had found in his wardrobe a waistcoat the color of the deep night. “Perfect, given how many times you two meet at night.”

“We’ve only  _ met _ there once. Before that, we met at Vask Manor at midday.”

“And you were grossly unprepared for it. Take it, Laurent. He will love it.”

Laurent nodded. He did not know it, but his fingers tangled the end of his hair round and round. The compliment was unexpected, but welcome. “Yes, well...Nicaise is still young. He doesn’t know how to speak properly yet: I hope you will not hold it against him.”

“Your younger brother?”

“Dear, no. He works as a messenger in the House. We took him in off the streets and look after him. I...my brother is dead, and my parents.” It was a shocking thing to say. Jord had known him since he was in toddler dresses and even he did not know the full story of Laurent’s loss. “Were it not for my uncle, I would be destitute.”

“And we never would have met. I would like to express my gratitude to your uncle.”

Fortunately at that moment, Jord had brought in Laurent’s uncle from his morning walk. The wheels squeaked horribly and the wicker creaked at the slightest movement. Laurent needed to make a note to purchase his uncle a new chair, for they had the money to afford a new one.

“My dear nephew - you are very handsome today. Is there another reading today that I have forgotten?”

“No, Uncle. I am...I invited Mr. Akielon to Kew Park. He is visiting from the countryside and asked for a guide to seeing London.” Laurent bit his tongue quickly. This was highly irregular, for him to be stumbling over his words as he was. “Mr. Akielon, allow me the pleasure of introducing my uncle, Reginald deVere.”

“Sir, it is an honor to meet you.” Mr. Akielon removed his hat and with the other hand, placed it against his heart in greeting with a small bow.

“Mr. Akielon, of the Ios estate? That is a far distance from London. I hope your travels have been well.”

“They have been, sir. I am visiting my cousin.”

“And tell me, what brings you to Vere?”

“I am...finding Mr. deVere to be quite the conversationalist. We have been exchanging critics on literature and philosophy. I find his thoughts to be quite fascinating.”

“I see.” A beat of Laurent’s heart reverberated between the four of them. “Laurent, you did not tell me Mr. Akielon had become such a regular.”

“He had not, Uncle - he is not. We were acquainted at Lady Halvik’s and again at Lady Jokaste’s. He kept me company while everyone worked.”

“Then I thank you for your troubles of keeping my nephew awake. Balls and recitations can be so tiresome for one not so involved.”

“Mr. deVere, shall we retire to your rooms?” Jord interrupted the conversation, leaning over the back of the wheelchair to interject himself. “The cook should have your morning tea prepared.”

“Yes, let’s. Laurent, I hope you will bring back some flowers for us. The House can always do with some added beauty.” Laurent nodded to his uncle, moving aside - and closer to Mr. Akielon - so Jord could forge ahead.

“If I may,” Mr. Akielon interrupted in that sudden manner of his. Laurent thought him a bit like a new puppy, eager to please everyone, “Perhaps I could escort Mr. deVere? I would greatly enjoy the chance to know him better.”

Laurent placed a hand on his arm. “Do you not need to wait for your cousin? Is he not to join us?”

The doorknocker clanged loudly at that moment and Mr. Kyroi was on the other side. His skin was flushed. He was trying hard not to pant. Laurent heard an aborted laugh beside him. “Yes, well, Nikandros is not as prone to exercise as I.”

“Not everyone grew up walking the grounds, Damianos. If you would be so kind as to remember that the next time you go flying down the street…” Laurent ushered Mr. Kyroi in, biting his lips together to not laugh, too. He introduced Mr. Kyroi as well to his uncle, explaining that Jord and Mr. Kyroi would also be going.

“Gracious me, I feel as if I am quite left out. But such is life - it is for the young, and leaves the old behind. Very well, Mr. Akielon. I will show you to my room and you will tell me whatever you like.” Mr. Akielon thanked him repeatedly. Jord showed him how to hold the handles. Laurent felt a small twitch of envy when Jord molded Mr. Akielon’s hands to the grips with touch. The two were off, both uncle and suitor giving Laurent kind eyes.

“Have you recovered well, Mr. Arles? You were quite...ahem, indisposed when I last saw you.” Mr. Kyroi’s flush turned darker and Laurent was intrigued.

“Indisposed? My, you are quite confident in yourself, Mr. Kyroi. Jord is one of our best and he does not submit easily.” Laurent’s brash words were for Jord’s benefit and his blush.

Said blush did not manifest easily. “There are things, my dear Laurent, that should not be shared so publicly.” Jord fixed Mr. Kyroi with a stare. Laurent wondered if the cousin knew that meant Laurent would hear all details later in his study. “Has the cook prepared our picnic? I will go check on it.”

Mr. Kyroi offered his arm, a useless gesture inside the house. “Let me join you.” Laurent laughed. Jord accepted it and the two walked away. Jord kicked him when Laurent muttered ‘Be quick’ under his breath.


	9. A Truth Most Unnecessary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurent's newfound confidence in his relationship with Mr. Akielon is shaken.

They left, the four of them, after Mr. Akielon and his uncle had a lengthy conversation. “What kept you so long?” Laurent had asked.

“I simply told your uncle that there was no need to worry about his favorite nephew. That your virtue is safe in my hands.”

Laurent wrung his handkerchief in his pocket. “If my uncle had worried for my virtue, I suppose he would have sent me off to school. We can afford it, after all.”

“Did you never go to school, Mr. deVere?”

“I learned the trade from my uncle and the rest from the ladies, of course. They are all very accomplished in their own right. Surprising the things the fairer sex is capable of. And in such beautiful garments as well.” Two ladies, sisters, perhaps, dressed to the nines walked past them. The gentlemen all nodded. Laurent let his gaze linger as the made their way. “Such rich colors and smooth silks, don’t you think, Mr. Akielon?”

“Indeed. Females are quite cunning, when they choose to be.” Mr. Akielon’s voice trailed off after that. Laurent wondered if this was what it was like to be on the receiving end of his own cool and coy nature. What secrets could Mr. Akielon be hiding? He could ask Mr. Kyroi, but Jord and he were animatedly talking a few steps behind them. They had created their own world, too. Perhaps that was just what lovers did, encase themselves so that nothing of the outside world could enter.

Were they lovers, he and Mr. Akielon? Was sex not what separated lovers from advantageous marriages? Did kind glances and veiled seductions count? Laurent was so very out of his league. His handkerchief had turned slightly damp; Laurent tore his hands out of his pockets. They were only a little red.

Kew Park was flooded with people. The Queen’s Garden was in bloom, so a few festivities were organized for visitors. Country girls sold bouquets made from the flowers and a street performer kept sending bubbles out for little ones to chase, while their parents idled about and made small talk over the natural beauty. It was all horribly mundane.

Laurent loved it.

“Is it normally like this?”

“It is the Queen’s Gardens, Damianos.” Mr. Kyroi interrupted. Apparently he and Jord were quite finished their flirting. Laurent raised an eyebrow at Jord and Jord raised one right back. “Although our last visit, the flowers were not at the their best. The dead of autumn does such damage to the flowers, of course.”

“Of course.” Laurent turned to Mr. Akielon. “You have been here before?”

“Lady Jokaste brought me. I have never seen them like this before. So lush and green - there is nothing like this in Ios and we have nothing but sun in Ios.”

“Lady Jokaste?” Laurent recalled Mr. Akielon saying that they were ‘good friends’, the night of her gala.

“Yes.” Mr. Kyroi said. “They were engaged, once upon a time.”

Lead stones dropped into Laurent’s stomach, and kept filling it up. His hands quickly went numb - that was a testament to his shock. He had not lost control of his powers since he was a little boy. Mr. Akielon, engaged? Certainly, if he was, there would be nothing that could have stopped it. Lady Jokaste was an accomplished woman, wealthy and beautiful. She was a much better fit for Mr. Akielon than Laurent could ever hope to be and what was worse, she could produce an heir. The Akielon family would need an heir, and Lady Jokaste’s, if they wanted to keep all that wealth. Oh how could Laurent have been so stupid? Everything had been telling him how doomed he was, he just had not listened.

“Mr. deVere, are you ill?”

“Laurent?”

Laurent nodded his head, excused himself for a breath of air, and stepped away. He caught Jord looking at his clenched fists so he walked quickly so Jord would not comment on it. He needed to find an outlet, somewhere to cool off, or warm up, perhaps, before a police officer could notice.

Laurent found a bench along the path without many flowers about it. He sat and just focused on breathing - that usually made the ice stop flowing then he only had to worry about the frost on his nails. The lamp post had a flower box wrapped around it where Laurent saw a bunch of snowbells had been planted. Snowbells were resilient to both warm and cold. Laurent placed his fingers on top of the soil and willed the cold to fall off. Like a plant itself, snow rose through the dirt slowly. It was covered by the time Laurent’s heart stopped hammering in his chest. But he was better now and nobody would be the wiser in the spring heat.

“Mr. deVere, how lovely to see you.”

Shit.

Lady Jokaste approached him. A maid followed her at a respectable distance, but when Lady Jokaste was close enough for Laurent to stand, she waved the maid away. “Are you enjoying the park?”

“I am, thank you. Are you taking lunch as well?” Laurent asked.

“My companions wanted to take a walk and I went along with them for a time. May I sit beside you?”

Speaking with Lady Jokaste was always a very tug and pull sort of a conversation. They were both of them outside the rules of social conduct - she a rich spinster and he an Endowed brothel manager - and both very intelligent and quick-witted. Neither would want the other to have the upper-hand, or be left without the last word. Laurent had found that endearing, before, to have such an equal. Today it irritated him.

He removed his coat and laid it across the stone for her to sit on, then joined her when she did.

“You are here with Mr. Akielon.” It was not a question.

“I am. We are taking lunch on the green. He has never seen Kew Park in the spring, he says.”

“He has not. He has not been to London in many years and when he was, he was always running back to Ios.”

Just as he was now. Laurent wondered what business was so important in Ios that it had torn Mr. Akielon away from his fiance, and was pulling him away even now. A wife? Children? Another brothel? Somehow, that hurt even worse. The House of Vere was the best brothel in London, maybe even all of England.

“He must take great pride in his manor.” 

“Mr. Akielon takes great pride in many things.”

Neither of them were looking at the other. Instead they stared out at the flowers and greenery and let the silence fill the minutes.  
  
“You were engaged, I hear.” Laurent finally said.

“Once. Years ago. It was a mutual arrangement by our parents before their deaths. It would never have worked in the real world, so I decided it would be best not to hassle with the whole thing.”

“His parents are dead?”

“Of course, Mr. deVere. Can you really expect any upstanding citizen to gain their fortune without the death of their parents?”

_ My family died and left me with nearly nothing _ . Laurent thought but didn’t say. “How did Mr. Akielon feel about your decision?”

“He was terribly hurt by it. I believed he may have loved me then.”

Mr. Akielon had not wanted to marry Lady Jokaste out of propriety or filial promises. He wanted to marry her because he loved her. Even then, he had had some secret in Ios that tore them apart.

What hope did Laurent have to Mr. Akielon’s affections? He was male, infertile, Endowed and a homosexual, and the manager of a brothel he could not leave behind. No part of him was a prospect for Mr. Akielon.

“What was he like, as a lover?” A silly question to ask, but Laurent reasoned that if he was to have nothing of Mr. Akielon himself, at least he could have memories. “Is there any likeness of it in his walk?”

“In his walk?” Lady Jokaste laughed rather indelicately. “Yes, yes I suppose there is. He walks by and every gentleman turns their head to look at him. He commands attention the moment he steps into the room. And he is the same in love.” She glanced to the side, to him. “Given your profession, you would not mind if I grant you a few details, would you Mr. deVere?”

_ Please _ , thought Laurent,  _ grant me as many as you can, so that I might dream accurately.  _ “Do not stop on my account.”

Lady Jokaste turned her attention fully to the flowers and continued. “He is all-encompassing. You look at him and think he is a barbarian, brutish and physical. You think you might even enjoy if he were, given his nature in polite company. But he is not; he is slow. He kisses you until you beg him to join you in bed, and he does not stop. He puts his hands on you and the world and all you know falls away. His body pressing down upon you, the weight of his full attention focused solely on you…” Lady Jokaste swallowed and was silent for a moment. Laurent wondered, far away, just how the memory affected her. “I think during those moments, I may have loved him, too.”

_ Moments _ . This beautiful experience happened more than once...and Laurent had never lain with a man before - had never laid with anyone. Mr. Akielon liked timid and shy in his bedfellows, but would he expect the same out of a brothel’s employer? Rather than affected sexually, Laurent felt the stones in his stomach double in size.

“Laurent, I have found you. Are you recovered?” Jord came down the walk and Laurent rose to meet him. He removed his hat and nodded at Lady Jokaste in greeting.

“Yes, I have, thank you. I am in full possessions of my faculties.” Jord gave him a strange look, surprised and sad. Laurent paid it no mind, his features schooled by the ice in his heart, rather than his hands. “Is everything alright?”

“Mr. Kyroi is preparing our meal. I said I would find you to join us. Will you also be joining us, Lady Jokaste?” Laurent exhaled in a sort of laugh. That would be quite the meal: The jilted lover, the ex-fiancé, the fool, and two witnesses. It would be more entertaining than going to the theatre.

“Thank you for your invitation, but I must decline. I should be returning to my party.” She rose and Laurent retrieved his jacket. It was slightly dusty, but the mess seemed miniscule to the proportion of his realization.

“Lady Jokaste, thank you for your company.” He said. “Your thoughts were most insightful. May I escort you?”

“No, thank you, Mr. deVere.” She responded. “I enjoy walking. Good day, gentlemen.” She curtsied and they bowed back. She left.

Jord stepped close. He took Laurent’s hand in his own and his fingers prodded at the skin - just peach and flesh. “Are you alright? I have not seen you turn to ice for years.”

“I...I...I am not fine, Jord. You were right - I have been an insufferable fool. Mr. Akielon and I was a fairy story, not ever going to come true. I am sorry I ever doubted you.”

“Laurent, no.” Jord gripped his hands tight. Thankfully they were far away from the frivolities that nobody would notice their intimacies, especially not Mr. Akielon or Mr. Kyroi. “You were the one who was right, to take a chance. You showed me. Those new fairytales, the ones by Andersen, you showed me. Where anyone in the world can have their happy ending. Tell me, what has changed your mind so much?”

“It was sea foam, Jord.” Laurent whispered. A small crystal of ice fell from a watery blue eye. “It was all sea foam.”


	10. Laurent's Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurent reveals to every thing that Damianos stands before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't checked out [SpiritofFox](spiritoffox.tumblr.com) by now, well, here's their art that they did for the Bang. I really loved it so much, I created a scene around it. Enjoy!~

Laurent was a private man, not given to crying publicly. Jord knew this and so took a longer route back to their guests so Laurent could gather himself. Laurent explained there was no reason Jord and Mr. Kyroi could not enjoy the day; he could survive the day and then explain to Mr. Akielon every reason why their courtship was to end that night. “I am not a simpering maiden given to fainting.” Jord furrowed his brow. Laurent cleared his throat. “I will be fine,” he said, quieter.

When they came upon Mr. Akielon and Mr. Kyroi, the two were whispering. Mr. Kyroi was pointing about and Mr. Akielon was moving his hand very close to his chest. Suddenly, Mr. Akielon’s face split into a great smile and he clapped Mr. Kyroi tightly on the arm. “Thank you, cousin.” Laurent heard and then the two gentlemen faced Jord and he. “Gentlemen, you have finally joined us. Mr. deVere, I hope this spot is to your liking. I would hate for you to be overwhelmed by the crowd again.”

“Yes, that would be a shame. My apologies.”

“Not at all. I find someone who seeks solitude amongst society to be an intelligent person. Would not you agree, Nikandros?”

Jord had left Laurent’s side to help Mr. Kyroi unpack. Mr. Kyroi nodded without looking at them. “Indeed. Nowadays, people gather because it is expected of them, not because they actually enjoy one another’s company. I would prefer knowing my partner is interested in our conversation and not staying out of politeness.” Laurent saw him catch Jord’s eye, but not what Jord whispered to him. His smile was pained looking at the two. Jord knew how to stay afloat in Mr. Kyroi’s attention. Laurent had sunk to the bottom, scrambling for air. For life after Mr. Akielon.

Laurent was sad, for lunch had turned a rather silent occasion. Mr. Akielon would look at Laurent to lead them into a conversation and Laurent chewed on a slice of mince pie. Jord and Mr. Kyroi watched, knowing neither to begin talking or to leave altogether. It was a very awkward, droning moment.

“The House of Vere has greatly enjoyed the book you sent Laurent, Mr. Akielon,” Jord spoke up. The words burst out of his throat, like he could not hold them in any longer. “Would you tell us about the author? I have not heard of him in any bookstores.”

“Do you frequent bookstores, Mr. Arles?”

“Jord is an avid reader, Mr. Kyroi.” Laurent decided it would be good to talk up Jord’s qualities. Mr. Kyroi was a well-paying customer. It was reasonable business to make him a regular John, even if he, too, would be required to marry one day. “His collection rivals my own.” Mr. Kyroi smiled, a softer one for Jord.

“Andersen is a fine boy - he will grow into a talented young man. He studies with my steward at my winter home in Denmark, and writes after that. I rather prefer his stories to the Grimm brothers - he turns real life into the mystical and the absurd. What do you think, Mr. deVere?” Mr. Akielon reclined and his attention was entirely focused on Laurent.

Laurent finished his bite and swallowed hard. “His stories are full of wish fulfillment, I believe. Girls curing cursed boys with true love’s kiss, a scorned lover turning into an angel, an ugly thing turning into a picture of beauty and envy.” He reached for a small biscuit. “Such things just are not possible.”

He turned the conversation dark much faster than his blunt words ever had before. Mr. Akielon cleared his throat and Laurent looked at his hands folded at his chest. “That is a fair assumption, Mr. deVere. But what would you say to The Red Shoes? The Little Match Girl? The Ice Maiden?”

“Misfortune comes to those who are already predisposed to it.” Laurent bit decisively at the end of the biscuit. “Perhaps Andersen was dealt a rather awakening blow the nights he wrote those.”

Lord, Laurent was unaware he had such morose behavior hidden away in him.

“Mr. Arles, what are your thoughts on these stories?” Mr. Kyroi interrupted before another foreboding silence could overtake them. He turned fully to face Jord, reclining almost to segregate Jord from Laurent and Mr. Akielon. “Pray, I ask that you actually tell me these stories, for Damianos never lets me read them. He sent them all to Mr. deVere.”

Jord laughed loudly. “Laurent has not shared them either. But I will tell you what I know through analysis.” And he did. Their world was created and Laurent and Mr. Akielon were cast out of it.

“Mr. deVere, would you honor me with a walk into the woods?”

“Certainly, Mr. Akielon.” Without any flirting or innuendos, something Mr. Akielon noticed quite quickly, Laurent cleaned his hands and rose. He walked away, slowly, waiting for Mr. Akielon to join him.

They walked quietly again. Laurent kept his gaze on the trees and their increasing girth the deeper they walked into the woods. When Laurent was a small boy, he could remember running away with his brother into the woods. They had always seemed like such a great solitude for him. A place nothing could reach him - not punishment for not cleaning his plate, not the Law of the Endowed, sometimes not even the rain would seep through the treetop and dampen his mood. He was free in the woods and it was here that he would free Mr. Akielon of their relationship.

Mr. Akielon was not speaking, either. Laurent looked at him every now and then when Mr. Akielon’s attention was elsewhere. He was leading them somewhere, Laurent realized. For sometimes when Laurent would step straight, Mr. Akielon would nudge him right, and when Laurent would step right, Mr. Akielon would step left. Nicaise was right - Laurent did not frequent Kew Park often. He did not know where Mr. Akielon would lead him.

Perhaps Mr. Akielon thought Laurent’s letter was acceptance, and that Laurent would be amenable to a whore’s profession now. Perhaps that was why Mr. Kyroi had been so  blasé about Mr. Akielon’s previous engagement.

“Mr. deVere.”

They were stopped before a thick brush of briars and thistle. Mr. Akielon stood in front of him, bowing his head to catch  Laurent’s eyes. Instead, the mid-afternoon sun shone through the leaves and caught Mr. Akielon’s crimson waistcoat. It complimented his skin, the warm tones of them both. Mr. Akielon was all reds and fires and warm smiles. Laurent was dark blues and ice, hidden away in the dark.

“Yes. I’m sorry - have we been talking?”

“Have I done something to offend you?”

Laurent closed his eyes, holding a groan in the back of his throat. “Mr. Akielon, is there a reason you feel to apologize for my silence? Does it offend  _ you?” _

Mr. Akielon cleared his throat. “If you were silent to enjoy the scenery, I would understand. But your manner has changed since we arrived and I can see no other reason for it other than I have tripped over another London faux-pas.” Mr. Akielon’s hands curled into fists at his side, clenching and unclenching. “I must apologize though, if not for my actions, than for my tone. I am not angry, Mr. deVere, just confused. Please, you were so amiable at The House.”

Laurent snorted and smiled. It was a sickly smile, he knew. But his insides were making him feel sick so maybe it was befitting. “Yes, I suppose I was very amiable in my ignorance.”

“Ignorance? You? Pray tell, what could you be ignorant of?”

“I am ignorant of many things, Mr. Akielon. The members of the American political party, the time it takes to walk the steps of the Eiffel tower, the languages of Ireland, Wales, and Scotland. But if you are asking for specifics, I would have to say I was most ignorant of your engagement to Lady Jokaste.”

“My engagement?” Mr. Akielon blinked, his face dropping into state so blank Laurent could not decipher it. Then all of a sudden that face crumpled up into annoyance - very familiar to Laurent. “Yes, of course. Please, I apologize on behalf of Nikandros. He should have known better than to say anything. But...but I can not see how that should affect you as such. I am not engaged and my attention has been solely focused on you.”

Laurent was not swayed by pretty words. “Why was it broken off? Was it your ‘business’ in Ios?”

“My business? What could...oh.” That blank face returned. “Lady Jokaste was here, was she not.” It was not a question. “You spoke with her, when you were away.”

“She told me that during your engagement, you were splitting your time quite unevenly between London and Ios. Tell me, Mr. Akielon,” Laurent stepped closer, seduction in every movement but ice right there at the tips of his skin, “what could keep a bachelor from his fiancé?”

“His home, which is run by two young gentleman and a steward not much older than them.” Mr. Akielon face broke out into one of those ridiculous, irritating smiles. “I detest the idea of a man holding dominion over a place and having no stains on his clothes to show for it, thus I only employ a small handful of gentlemen who I trust and love very dearly. When there is too much to do for them, I had happily, and happier still, returned to Ios to do my part.”

Laurent blinked, rather owlishly and not at all becoming. “You...you would rather cover yourself -  _ willingly _ \- in muck than relax in lavish London?”

“My stewards do so much for me - it is only fair I return their kindness in full.” Mr. Akielon reached out a hand. “Will you please, let me show you something, Mr. deVere?”

_ How unjustly have I accused this man? _ Laurent placed his hand in Mr. Akielon’s.

Behind the thorn and burrs was a paradise. An lake of bluebells consumed him, with golden leaves dusted on top of them. “It’s beautiful.” Laurent said without even thinking of it.

“It is a perfect circle, so the warmth escapes most quickly, faster than the rest of the world. Mother Nature is a queen in this place, draped in golden finery.” Mr. Akielon still had Laurent’s hand and pulled him gently along through the bluebell water. “I would come here with Nikandros when I was young. I lived in London when I attended school. I have missed it...my little secret.” The sunlight in the grove shone down upon him. Dark skin gleamed and even darker curls, why they positively sang out praise. The light of the whole world, God had decided to surrounded this angel. This angel, who had only eyes for a doubtful, sceptical, cynical sinner.

“Why are you so kind?”

Mr. Akielon turned around and Laurent held no care for the wavering of his voice or the tears in his eyes. “Laurent,” he whispered and everything Laurent held inside of him broke out. Tears, emotions, even the ice in his heart poured out of him. The bluebells were frosted in seconds and immediately they wilted. Fitting, perhaps, that something so beautiful and wonderful, so innocent of all wickedness, Laurent had horribly insulted.

Mr. Akielon crossed the flowers and cold; Laurent’s cheeks were cupped in warmth suddenly. Through the tears, Laurent looked into Mr. Akielon’s eyes.  _ Brown, the color of the Earth he so earnestly tends _ . “Time and again, I have doubted you. You have been nothing but kind and patient and still I turn that away at every poor thought. How can you show me so beautiful and precious a place as this? I am not worthy.”

“Laurent...Laurent, no.” Mr. Akielon had thrown aside propriety in the name of comfort, either that or he was just that absent-minded in the face of Laurent’s unusual character, and was stepping so close Laurent could feel the heat of Mr. Akielon’s touch thaw his frozen skin. “You are most worthy. Your thoughts and feelings are justly created. The world has been unnecessarily unkind to you. You are right to take caution when fortune comes to the door. But please, do not let your caution lead you away from this.” Mr. Akielon’s hands dropped from his face (Laurent missed his warmth), taking Laurent’s own hands instead. “From us.”

Laurent stared down at their conjoined hands. Mr. Akielon’s did not turn red, no swelling or blistering. What magic did Mr. Akielon have inside of him, that his words alone calmed Laurent enough that his frozen hands did not burn him? He was sobbing, Laurent knew. Mr. Akielon waited (he was always waiting) and let Laurent cry himself to his senses. “Let us have everything open, shall we?” Mr. Akielon brushed back hair that had fallen from Laurent’s tie and tucked it behind his ear. The movement brought Laurent’s gaze from the ground to Mr. Akielon’s eyes. “Whatever your fears, your worries, what it is inside your heart that keeps you from me, I would have you say it at once and leave naught a shred of insincerity alive between us.”

The sobs and hiccups quieted, Laurent gasped for breath. To put voice to the wretched things screaming rampant inside his head...perhaps it would kill him, squeeze his heart so tightly it stopped beating.

_ How was that any different from your intent when you walked out here? You were planning on breaking your heart and his then, and now you have a chance to mend it all _ . Like hope rising from Pandora’s Box, Laurent felt a spark of courage inside his heart. So he began.

“I am a virgin, Mr. Akielon.” Though quiet, Laurent spoke with finality. “I am not timid nor embarrassed, I am a non-existent lover. I am an...innocent, to all the pleasures of the flesh, with no experience in...letting control over to others. If your expectations were a that of a lover to match your own stamina, I can not help but disappoint.”

Mr. Akielon laughed outright. The sound spooked bluejays in the branches and they flew away. “I expected nothing less than whatever you would give.” Laurent’s hands transferred to one palm and Mr. Akielon cradled his wet cheek in the other, wiping away tear tracks with the pad of his thumb.

“Moreover,” Laurent forced out, before he could be swept away in gentle kindness, “I can never be more than the manager of a brothel.” The words came tumbling out, a tap turned on the same as his ice, “My uncle is my only family, the House his only business. And thus, my connections are inferior to anything a gentleman of your rank would garner. Would there ever be something more between us,” Laurent squeezed tears out of his eyes.  _ Pray, let there be something more,  _ “I fear you would be courting someone far, far below you.”

“In all of my years, Laurent, I have found no one - man or woman - who is more my equal than you, in spite of your circumstances and occupation. More than that, your dedication to your family and your friends is most becoming.”

“Lady Jokaste is more your equal than I.” Laurent muttered under his breath. In the quiet of the grove, it was heard as clear as a street performer.

“Jokaste? Laurent, what did she tell you of our engagement?” Mr. Akielon’s hand fell away, dropping with sudden weight. Laurent bit his lip and his chin fell to his chest. He stared at the bluebells surrounding their boots. The frost had melted away. Laurent wondered when that happened.

“I was engaged to Jokaste in my youth - this is true. But our engagement was not ended by my frequent visits to Ios. My engagement to Jokaste ended when I returned and found my brother had warmed her bed.”

“What?” Civility had flown away with the birds and so when Laurent was shocked, he spoke plainly. Mr. Akielon, cuckolded by his own brother? What sort of villain could do such a thing, and what woman would lay with him?  _ Who will not change a raven for a dove? _

Mr. Akielon squeezed his hands, and Laurent squeezed back. He found that Mr. Akielon was taking comfort from him, instead of giving it. “I had wished to keep this from you till we were more properly acquainted, but in the interest of easing your troubles, I will divulge something I would wish to forget.” Mr. Akielon had lowered his eyes when Laurent had raised his in shock. They were open, more than they ever had been in their former meetings - vulnerable. “I hold no doubt of your secrecy in the matter.” Laurent was baffled, so only nodded in agreement.

“My parents could not conceive when they were first married. It was at the behest of a friend that my father entertain himself at a brothel and claim the bastard child as legitimate, once born. Years later, my mother bore me and everything that had been promised to him became mine, though neither of us knew. Growing up, we were all such friends - Nikandros, Kastor and I. When Kastor came of age and sought what he conceived as his rightful inheritance, all semblance of brotherly affection was torn asunder and he hated me - hates me, still.  _ He _ is the reason I return to Ios so often. He terrorizes my gentlemen, displaying deplorable disregard for the grounds and the home we grew up in.”

Laurent stumbled close - or perhaps it was on purpose - till their breaths were one. He squeezed Mr. Akielon’s hand, reaching down to grab the other. Mr. Akielon took a deep breath and let it go slowly. His smile returned and it washed away the tension left behind by his words, though it was so very melancholy.

“Kastor seeks what would and will always be thought of as his. I had left one week and in those hours, Kastor acquainted himself with Jokaste. How he courted her I know not, but he was successful. I had not known they even knew of each other - I did not speak of Kastor and can only imagine how he had spoken of me since our separation.”

It was hesitant, the movement of Laurent’s hand. It pushed through the silence that blanketed the both of them in such a private, intimate embrace. Laurent cupped Mr. Akielon’s cheek. His fingers scratched against the grain of Mr. Akielon’s facial hair. Mr. Akielon’s brown eyes fluttered close, he sighed, and turned into the touch. “How long was it until they were discovered?”

“Jokaste said they had been...in communications for a year. I suspect it was much longer.”

“You loved her.”

Mr. Akielon chuckled, breathily. They had not noticed their voices rising above a whisper. It felt sacrilegious to break the quiet. “A childhood crush, perhaps brought on by knowing that she and I were matched together.”

“How can you believe in love when you were betrayed so intimately?”

Mr. Akielon looked at him. Laurent felt the gaze deep in his bones, in his heart.

“When I found Kastor in Jokaste’s bed, her only remorse was in the finding.” Mr. Akielon took a step and that one breath turned into nothing. Warmth, fire, burned deep inside of Laurent. His icy heart was in danger of melting completely… “You have apologized for only having a fragile heart and the pains that it could have caused me. You heart is true, Laurent, your soul pure.”

“Mr. Akielon…”  _ You are too close...please step closer. _

“Damianos.”

Whatever ice was left inside of Laurent, it was all burned away. He would not even be able to chill a drink at that moment. He swallowed to find his voice. “What?”

“Call me Damianos. I have taken the liberty of your given name, you shall have mine.” And was not that quite the thought.  _ Laurent Akielon… _ Laurent entertained the thought for just a moment. “We have become too familiar with each other for any other name between us.”

“Damianos…” The word spread over his skin - a kiss without any contact. Breath stuttered past his lips. “Damianos…”

“Yes, Laurent?”

Laurent thought he may cry once more, for entirely new reasons. He closed his eyes and his name washed down over him. “I have one more fear.”

“What is it, Laurent?”

_ Breathe...just breathe… _ Laurent reminded himself. He opened his eyes. “I am Endowed.”

Laurent realized suddenly that he had never said that word aloud, Endowed - never in respect to himself. He spoke  _ of _ the Endowed, added it to his repertoire of titles inside his own head. But there was some raw value, an untouched truth suddenly revealed, when that word hit fresh air.

“That can bear no objection to our union.”

_ Oh, do not tempt me, Mr...Damianos, with such fantasies.  _ Laurent swallowed hard. “There are places for men such as us to live, quietly and safely. That you are a man of such standing is proof. But...to live as an Endowed...there would be nothing but scandal. Your fortune, your connections, the standing of Mr. Kyroi in your association…”

Laurent did not notice his breathing increase, bordering himself on the hysterics of a woman. Damianos’s hands framed his face, more than that, he felt Damianos tip their heads together. “Breathe, Laurent. Breathe, my dear prince.” Laurent nodded. He let the air (the scent of Damianos...the woods and the city, mixed together) fill him up and let it go slowly (unwillingly.)

“Close your eyes.” Laurent raised his gaze, his eyes almost crossed, they were so close. His face must have seemed so confused for Damianos nodded. “Close your eyes.” And his hands fell away. Laurent had no expectation for what may be Damianos’s intentions, but he obeyed nonetheless.

The warmth of Damianos faded away almost instantly, and Laurent was cold. Ice flickered inside of him, but he kept it locked away. He would trust Damianos this time and not his mind.

Something brushed up against his leg...tall as his knee. Laurent furrowed his brow. Perhaps he had been distracted by his own internal crisis, but he could not recall any animals in the grove. In fact, this close to the park, wild animals would be quite rare indeed...and to approach a human. For it did approach, pushing its weight against Laurent’s leg. It wanted Laurent to notice it.

A boxer stepped around him, eyes trained on his face - saucers of brown set in chocolate and white fur. Laurent had certainly not seen anyone bringing their dog to the park, nor had anyone trailed Damianos and him through the woods. Damianos was in fact gone; Laurent turned his head around, but the gentleman had disappeared from the grounds. Apprehension coiled his stomach into a knot of fear. Laurent tried to uncoil it with confidence...trust which he had not used in many long years. Damianos had an answer for each fear Laurent set forth - this was Laurent’s moment to believe them.

The dog barked and Laurent set eyes upon him again. He reached a hand out, the intent to run his fingers through the dog’s brow evident. The animal was circling his legs before Laurent could make contact. Two circles and at the beginning of the third, Laurent perceived the boxer was much longer than other breeds. The brown and white fur was much more gray and almost, segmented.  _ Scales. _ Laurent realized.  _ Why does a dog have scales? _

Before his eyes, the dog turned into a snake.

No wider than the size of a few fingers, but longer than Laurent had ever seen, in any book, the snake raised itself. Like the boxer (before?) it stared at Laurent intently, with the same deep brown eyes.

_ Damianos _ .

The snake lowered itself... _ Damianos _ lowered himself, and wrapped his form around Laurent’s boot. He coiled in circles up Laurent’s leg and Laurent felt laughter - giggles - rattle his chest. Damianos Akielon, the envy of London society and easily the most eligible bachelor of the season, was Endowed. And he had only eyes for Laurent. Damianos climbed upwards and dragged across Laurent’s chest. Laurent placed his hand over the snake’s spine, petting it after a moment. Warmth pulsated underneath his fingertips, the warmth of Damianos so close to his heart. At his shoulder, the snake’s body melted away and Laurent watched a monarch fly away.

It landed on a bluebell several steps away. Damianos turned to face him.

“You...you are…” Speech had left Laurent behind a dumb man.

“I am.” Damianos said. “My brother, my cousin, and I have all worn the skin of many creatures - even man. We eat our bread at the table and run with the moonlight, but never have we held ourselves below that which we deserve. I will not lie and say that our lives have been overt with our abilities - it is a secret we guard closely, just as Nikandros and I hide the true nature of our hearts. But how we are born holds no merit on the full potential of our lives. The Endowed are so much more than people grant them credit.” Damianos approached him. Laurent could not wait to join their hands. “ _ You _ are so much more.”

Laurent’s heart had never felt more full of love and trust. He nodded. “I believe you, now.”

“Good.” Once again, they shared the same space. Laurent lost himself in the dark depths of Damianos’s affections. Damianos plucked the golden leaves that had crowned Laurent’s blonde hair. “You seem as a royal prince to me, Laurent. My prince. My beautiful prince, will you believe in my affection for you?”

“I will.” The words reverberated between them. The possible impossibility of their implication. Laurent raised Damianos’s hand and kissed the fingers. “I do, Damianos.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come check me out on [tumblr](conformityvictim.tumblr.com)


	11. Mr. Akielon's Fifth Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grace, beauty, and happiness, appear to knock at the door of the House of Vere

The setting sun illuminated the grove, transfiguring the leaves into firelight, and Damianos and Laurent knew the hour had grown late. No doubt the House had opened for the night already. His uncle did not often manage the ladies, Laurent reasoned to himself. It would be good for his skills not to go to waste.

Damianos escorted him back to the park. From there, they had intended to return to the picnic spot and seek out Jord and Mr. Kyroi. “Nikandros, Laurent. He is my cousin - I grant you permission to be familiar with him. He will not mind.”

“Nikandros, then. And Jord, for you. He is my close friend. I would have you acquaint yourself with him at once if anything is to become of it.” The specific implication of ‘it’ was left unidentified.

They strolled leisurely instead. Few stragglers were left behind; they were much more free to comment on the arrangements of the flowers and the colors of the petals. A slight breeze passed about them, bringing a refreshing feeling. Their paths crossed with Jord and Nikandros’s, hidden away from the street lights and speaking softly. They all laughed. Nikandros declared that night had come and they were all to part ways. Laurent’s feet weren’t even touching the ground when Jord escorted him back to the House.

“I have never seen your eyes so bright.” said Jord. “Whatever did you talk about?”

“I will tell you, dear friend,” Laurent said, clasping Jord’s hand on his arm, “when you tell me when you became so familiar with Mr. Kyroi. I heard you call him ‘Nikandros.’”

Darkness was rapidly filling the streets, but Laurent still saw the blush over Jord’s cheeks.

Laurent threw himself into his work, having energy built up in him - happiness. That built-up energy was happiness. He accepted more invitations to public events - the year was almost filled up with every weekend a gala or a theatre’s opening night. It would all mean grand amounts of income for the House, and more chances to keep Damianos in London.

“Laurent.” Jord knocked on the doorway. Jord had similarly been in good spirits since that day, in both a good and bad way. In the daytime, his eyes were bright and he spoke with conviction and pleasant satire. Come working hours, Laurent had noticed in days past, he took no Johns. Jord prided himself on turning more tricks than any other tenant.  _ What have these men done to us, Jord? _

“Jord - is something wrong?”

“Not at all, Laurent. A letter has arrived for you. From Mr. Akielon.”

After Kew Park, Laurent had dug out each letter and pressed them gently into the pages of Andersen’s stories. His fingertips scraped over the indentations of each letter. He had every word inscribed deep into his mind. “Thank you Jord.” Laurent pushed back his chair and walked over.

When Jord handed Laurent the letter, Laurent noticed a white rectangle behind his back. “Jord...what is that?”

Jord’s hand quickly pulled the rectangle - the  _ letter  _ \- out of sight. Laurent raised an eyebrow. His hand shot out and just by a cat’s whisker did he miss it. He tried again - Jord had to bend over backwards, literally, to keep it away from him. They played Cat and Mouse, running around Laurent’s bedroom, for a few minutes more. Jord held up a hand in surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll show you. Let me catch my breath.”

“Age has finally caught up to you in your laziness.” Jord tried to glare at him, but it lost its edge when he was hunched over his knees and panting. “What could be written so importantly that you would hide it from me?”

Jord would have bitten his lip, were he not so desperate to breathe. Laurent called out to him; apprehension furrowed Jord’s dark brow. “It is...from Mr. Kyroi.” Suddenly Laurent ushered Jord to sit, for he feared Jord may honestly swoon. “He has offered me a place in his household.”

“He has made you an offer of employment?”

“He has made me an offer of companionship, Laurent. Monogamous, constant companionship.”

Here Jord thrust the letter to Laurent. With shifting eyes, Laurent opened it. There were three pieces - the letter and two pages of documents, with Nikandros’s signature at the bottom. “This...this is a seal of promise.” Laurent closed the papers. “Jord...has he proposed to you?”

“Not to me, but I can think of nothing else when faced with this evidence. He wants me to leave the House and join his - see no other man and lay in no bed but his.”

“Jord, what powers do you hold?” Laurent stared at the documents. The world had become unreal. Glorious blessings had befallen their dark corner of the world - could it be believed? “How will you respond?”

Jord scoffed, but said nothing. He pulled a hand through his short dark locks, but still, he said nothing. Laurent could read every thought running through his mind in his eyes. He reached over, clasping the hand that remained on Jord’s knee. “He is a kind man, rich, and attentive - that is more than most ladies can dream of in finding a husband.” Laurent suppressed a smile at the sight of Jord mouthing the word, ‘husband’. He squeezed Jord’s hand tighter. “What is more than that,” Laurent remembered, “He is like us.”

“He can’t be.” Jord said in a quiet shocked voice.

“He is. In the woods, Damianos showed me what he could do. He told me himself his family is all Endowed. They are our people, Jord. They are proof the Law of the Endowed is not so strictly enforced.” Laurent laughed almost with tears. “They are proof we can be  _ happy _ , Jord.”

“Happy.” Jord echoed. Laurent placed the letter in his hands. Jord stared at them transfixed for minutes. “What will your uncle say?”

“I will tell my uncle tonight at dinner. You are his oldest employee - he can not wish anything but blessings for you, I am sure.”

Jord shook his head. His laughter and the mirth in his eyes was almost hysteric. “It is so much, Laurent - too much. I do not deserve it.” Laurent looked in his eye and a glow filled his heart. “Oh, why is not everyone in the world as happy as I?”

Laurent smiled back with all he had. “Go, Jord. Write to him - I have no doubt he is waiting your reply.”

Jord raced from Laurent’s room, giddy like a schoolboy. Laurent made a note to send Nicaise after him in a few minutes, lest Jord tear his room apart with horrible excitement (as Jord’s abilities were wont to do). For now, he felt the ice in his own veins moving, for he was full of energy himself. A promise of commitment, ye, practically as much of a proposal as a man could receive.

And what was more, whatever Damianos had written to him.

All his work pushed aside for much later, Laurent retreated to his fireplace. He removed his boots and curled into the leather like he was a small boy once more. Comfortable and safe, he opened the letter.

_ My exquisite prince, _

_ I send this letter alongside my cousin’s. His predisposition to your Jord is palpable within the household he manages. I suspect Jord will join us soon. Please send my wishes and blessings to him, should he receive the letter in good spirits. Our visit to Kew Park seems to have changed all of us at once. _

_ That day, you revealed many things that bring you worry for the future ahead. If you would grant me the same courtesy, I bring before you a worry of my own. Before I met you, I had loved women and men alike, openly and privately. But never have I loved with this much passion, with so much of myself I fear I have lost all consciousness inside of your presence. _

_ I can not articulate what it is that first drew my affections unto you. Was it your beauty, the first time I saw you in your parlor? Or was it your brain, conversing about sociology at Vask Manor? I have tried to decipher it. My conclusion: You are too perfect of a man for there to be one quality about you to entice me, rather that you are you is enough to make me fall in love. _

_ I awaken some nights, unsure if you are truly real, or just the terribly wonderful invention that all lovers dream of. Those are the moments when I write to you, just to know that there is a place in the world where I may find you. Just to know where my heart truly lies. Then I know that you are just as truly beautiful, wonderful, as you seem. _

_ Mere days have passed since I last saw you, yet my heart aches by our separation, knowing you are only streets away. Guion Ambassateur holds a recital every week where anyone may step forth to show their talents. Nikandros frequently attends - will you and Jord accompany us? I beg that you do, else I may resign to my bed and weep for the rest of my days. _

_ I long to kiss your hand again, _

_ Loving always, _

_ Damianos. _

The paper fell to his lips, when Laurent finished reading. An indirect kiss: It sent warmth down to his toes.  _ Love... _ Damianos  _ loved _ him.  _ Somebody _ loved him. Laurent never thought he would see the day, when the ice at his fingertips could not freeze the emotion making his heart beat so fast. Beyond even that...Laurent could not conceive of the day he could love...

A recital...a proposal...thoughts, plans, schemes whirled around in his mind faster than an devout dervish. Laurent vaulted out of his armchair and raced out of his room. “Jord!”


	12. The Mutual Courtship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurent finally accepts that to be loved may not be as grievous as he once believed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what's hard to do with Captive Prince??? Find freakin' female characters!! Seriously, omg, took me a few days to find Vannes again.

Ravenel was a beautiful estate, quaint and just outside the London city that city and countryside air mixed together pleasantly, and the Endowed who were so sorely abused in the city could feel respected and appreciated amongst their kin. Guion Ambassateur was a familiar face to Laurent, having studied with his uncle as children and keeping adequate communication with him years later. His wife was skilled in multiple instruments; they oft opened their home for children to take lessons. Laurent had offered the option to Nicaise many times. Each time he was answered with a pungent blend of marigold tea.

“He is a rather opinionated young child, is he not?” Mr. Ambassateur laughed with him. Laurent had come to make his presence known and time flew by as they chatted. Patrons and guests had come by to introduce themselves, thus their small circle had become quite large of involved individuals.

“Boys of that age usually are. I find defiant opinions to be a very important step towards independence and self-sufficiency.” Laurent sipped at his champagne. He did not care for alcohol on the whole, so resigning to champagne usually granted a night without cajoling for more drinks. “If you can not stand by your declarations in your youth, how will you ever learn to do so in adulthood?”

“Very aptly said, Mr. deVere.” The lightest touch, a hand on the small of his back, and Damianos was beside him. Laurent bit back his full smile and took another sip. Any blush on his face, he would blame on the alcohol.

“Mr. Akielon.” He turned to Mr. Ambassateur. “Mr. Ambassateur, please give me the honor of introducing Mr. Damianos Akielon to you.”

“Thank you for your invitation to tonight’s recital, Mr. Ambassateur.” Damianos bowed his head in greeting. The gentlemen of the circle returned the gesture. “I did not know you two were so acquainted, Mr. deVere.”

“I have known Mr. deVere since he was a child. I went to school with his uncle. His father had a much more private, education, of course. Firstborn and all that propriety.”

“Of course.” Damianos said.

Laurent cleared his throat. He felt ice at his fingertips, waiting to burst out. He pressed his glass to his lip but did not drink, just let the sensation calm him. He felt Damianos’s hand press harder on his back. He cleared his throat again. “Mr. Ambassateur is Nicaise’s tutor,  you see. He visits our house at least once a week and in return, my uncle has educated his sons in finance and business.”

“Speaking of which, Mr. deVere, Aimeric will be calling upon your uncle soon - can you accommodate him?” Mr. Ambassateur declared, then turned to Damianos. “My youngest son. He think he can uses his endowments to learn from his brothers.”

Laurent turned to Damianos as well. “The Ambassateurs have each surpassing abilities of the mind. Mr. Ambassateur has acquired a serviceable fortune helping any Endowed looking to control their abilities. He has quite a way with education: Many of my ladies were complete wrecks before his tutelage.”

“You do flatter me, Mr. deVere.” Laurent raised his eyebrows, and his glass.

“Could your uncle not assist your ladies?” Damianos asked. “Surely a man of his age would have extensive control.”

“I have no doubt he would, given Mr. Ambassateur’s demonstrations.” Laurent waved his hand in Mr. Ambassateur’s direction. “But my uncle has no abilities to speak of.”

“A normal man, in the midst of a family of Endowed. It must have been quite the life.” Damianos shook his head, as if he was shaking the quickly morose thought off of his shoulders. He smiled to Mr. Ambassateur. “But a well-established man is something I am always happy to see.” Mr. Ambassateur nodded to Damianos, supposedly very pleased with the man. Damianos then turned his attentions to Laurent. “Mr. deVere, I would ask the privilege to speak with you privately.”

Laurent nodded and made his apologies. He followed the guidance of Damianos’s hand on his back, giving the drink to a passing servant.

Entering into the thick of the night’s guest, Damianos removed his hand and clasped them behind his own back. They walked about the room. “Your dress is very stunning tonight.” Damianos noted. Laurent blushed and laughed. It had been a mad dash to the tailor to find tonight’s outfit - a black jacket fitting an evening out, with silk egyptian blue lining the inside and showing off in his tails.

“Well,” Laurent falsely cleared his throat for the third time, “I needed some way to catch your eye, amongst the luxurious gowns of the ladies here tonight.”

“My eye could never stray from you, Laurent.” Damianos spoke in a soft voice, for only Laurent to hear and to deepen the blush in his cheeks. “How many of your ladies are working tonight? How long may I steal you away?”

“My ladies, and my gentlemen, are here only as guests tonight. It is a night of rest and recreation for us.” Laurent turned his eye to the side. Damianos’s face split into that starlight smile.

“Then I shall resolve to steal you for the whole night and the following morning.”

_ Steal me forever _ , Laurent thought. “Is your cousin with you, tonight?”

Damianos pointed to a corner, near the entrance of the hall. Nikandros stood against the wall, seeming to all the world a respectable and patient man. Laurent held back a laugh when he noticed the man methodically rubbing his wrists behind his back. “Your Jord has not responded to his offer, yet.”

“He plans to, tonight.” Laurent turned and found Damianos overwhelming him, too close and yet he cared not. “When you first wrote to me, Jord advised I should let you pursue our courtship, in order to inspect your sincerity. I merely echoed his advice in this matter.”

“That they must starve themselves of lover’s food till deep midnight - an interesting notion.” Damianos nodded and when Laurent looked again, Jord was approaching Nikandros who absolutely lit up at the sight of him. “One I believe has quite the pay-off.”

“Indeed.” Laurent ducked his head to stop the outburst of laughter in his lungs. “Shall we take our seats, sir?” Damianos waved his arm out, giving the lead to Laurent and his wonderful smile.

Mrs. Ambassateur sat before a piano forte. Her fingers flowed over the keys with a master’s confidence. Laurent did not know if this piece was composed by an artist or by Mrs. Ambassateur herself. He supposed it did not matter, for Mrs. Ambassateur was the most accomplished artist Laurent had the pleasure of knowing.

Laurent felt the moment Mrs. Ambassateur used her powers, when the music entered his ears and echoed inside his mind, when the audience would feel the music deep within themselves. He watched Damianos for his reaction as the same happened to him. Tears formed in his eyes and spilled out without thought, without conscious acknowledgement. “Is this...is this possible? To feel each keystroke with my entire being?”

Laurent did not have an answer. For a strange reason, Mrs. Ambassateur’s projections held no effect on him. Or rather, they did. But the ice and frost inside of him was always pushing against it that he could not feel their overwhelming full power, as the other members in the room did. Knowing everyone else would be distracted, Laurent reached across the seats and squeezed Damianos’s hand in his own. Damianos clung to him, continuing to cry.

The music falling to a close brought everyone to their feet. Roaring applause shook the room; Mrs. Ambassateur bowed gracefully. Laurent ushered Damianos to the side the moment she left the stage - he could see Damianos was teeming with emotions.

“Mrs Ambassateur, let me extend my deepest and most sincere compliments. Your playing was absolutely…” Damianos laughed with a sob bubbling out over his final word.

“Oh my word, Mr. Akielon, are you quite alright? I have never seen someone react so violently to my abilities.”

“Yes.” Damianos sniffled. “Yes, I am quite fine. Your abilities, your mental presence, they...they felt familiar to me in a way I have not felt in many years.”

“Have you attended our recitals before, Mr. Akielon?” Mr. Ambassateur asked.

Seeing the audience was focused on the next performance - a harpist with strings made of fire - Laurent was bold enough to place a hand on Damianos’s elbow so that he may ground himself. “Mr. Akielon is in London visiting a cousin, a Mr. Kyroi. He did not know of London’s vast Endowed population before tonight.”

“Or how deeply talented each of you are.” Laurent met Damianos’s eyes. Speech fled from his thoughts: Laurent was defenseless.

Damianos took Laurent’s hand from his arm and held it between his palms, so that he may keep that contact when Damianos turned away first, perhaps. “Your performance, and what I have seen of the ladies and gentlemen in my visits, has me resolved that the Endowed can rise to new heights in the coming future.”

“Well, then, you must hear Mr. deVere sing!”

What?

Laurent snapped out of his revere. “Sing? Oh, no, Mrs. Ambassateur, I could not. I can not sing.”

“But surely you can - I taught you myself.” Mrs. Ambassateur waved her hand at the comment, her attention solely on convincing Damianos. “Mr. deVere is an excellent singer, my prized pupil, if I had to choose. Surely, Mr. deVere, you must sing for us. Look, Miss Vannes has finished with her piece. It would be a perfect moment.”

While Laurent floundered to find a reasonable excuse, Damianos ceased all attempts. “You would not deny me the pleasure, would you, Mr. deVere?”

Laurent sighed and did  _ not _ pout. “You are not playing fair, Mr. Akielon.”

“Fair is foul, and foul is fair.”

Laurent removed his hand in a dramatic fashion and followed Mrs. Ambassateur to her stage. She whispered suggestions into his ear. It was not until Laurent took his first step that he knew the perfect piece to play. While she explained the interruption into the queue for the night, Laurent locked eyes with Damianos across the room.

The moment Mrs. Ambassateur played the first key, Lauent knew that tonight, his feelings for Damianos Akielon, would be made apparent.

_ When I think of love, _

_ I think about a night _

_ When the Earth smelled of summer _

_ And the sky was streaked with white _

 

_ And the soft mist of England _

_ Was sleeping on a hill _

_ I remember this _

_ And I always will. _

Laurent almost imagined he could feel the bluebells brushing against his trousers, and the golden leaves nestled against his hair. The grove, the greatest secret Damianos had ever shared, had left its mark on Laurent.

_ There are new lovers now _

_ On that same silent hill _

_ Looking at the same _

_ Blue Sea _

 

_ And I know you and I are  _

_ a part of them all _

_ And they’re all a part of you _

_ And me _

Just as Damianos had left his mark on Laurent’s heart.

_ Hello Young Lovers, _

_ Whoever you are _

_ I hope your troubles _

_ Are few _

 

_ All my good wishes _

_ Are with you tonight _

_ I’ve been in love _

_ Like you _

Laurent could see the moment the word reached Damianos. How his posture straightened like a rod, how his skin began to glow, how his smile widened to an immeasurable amount. For yes, Laurent was horribly in love with Damianos Akielon.

_ Be brave, Young Lovers _

_ And follow your star _

_ Be brave, and faithful, _

_ And true. _

 

_ Cling very close _

_ To each other tonight _

Laurent sought the forms of Jord and Nikandros, laughing themselves silly quietly in the corner. He would miss Jord’s company in the House, but he could only imagine the happiness and joy the two would have together. How lucky this spring had blessed them.

_ I have been in love _

_ Like You _

 

_ I know how it feels _

_ To have wings on your heels _

_ And to fly down the street _

_ In a trance _

 

_ You fly down the street _

_ On the chance that you’ll meet _

_ And you meet _

_ Not really by chance _

The feelings he’d been overflowing with following the day in the grove, was such an emotion that Laurent could never forget it.

Jord caught his eye. Laurent thought he saw a shred of guilt in those dark eyes, at his leaving the House, no doubt. Laurent smiled and subtly shook his head.

_ Don’t cry, Young Lovers _

_ Whatever you do you _

_ Don’t cry  _

_ because I’m alone _

Laurent looked back at Damianos. His resolve tightened in his stomach, but more than that, he finally felt every last power of ice melt away from his heart.

_ All of my memories _

_ Are happy tonight _

_ I’ve had a love _

_ Of my own _

 

_ I’ve had a love _

_ Of my own _

_ I’ve had a love _

_ Of my own. _

The audience gave him a standing ovation. A ceremonious crowd that Laurent had difficulty getting away from, full of compliment and admiration. Laurent could not make more apologies or faster gratitude to cross the room to Damianos.

“Mr. Akielon, would you care to escort me home?”


	13. A Day, in the Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An outing, of sorts.

The London air held a small breeze, making an evening stroll through the streets highly pleasurable. Leaving Ravenel, Damianos offered his arm and Laurent boldly took it. They passed no one on their walk. Damianos took the opportunity to praise Laurent highly of his singing. Laurent thanked him for the comment, and held tighter to him.

The house was empty, for Laurent had been honest in his relieving of his workers. Laurent thought he might jump out of his skin, for the thoughts inside his mind. He extracted his arm from Damianos’s arm, staring down at him from on top of his doorstep.

Damianos’s eyes twinkled in the midnight. “Am I to tell you goodnight, Mr. deVere?”

Laurent bit his lip. He was resolved, but nerves were such wild things. “No, Mr. Akielon.” He forced out. “I would rather you stay. And...share my bed, if you are so inclined?” Laurent squeezed his eyes shut. Oh, how awkward he must sound. What was it that set him apart from Jord, who could invite a man in less than five words.

Damianos gawked at him. “Laurent...Laurent are you absolutely sure?” He stepped closer and Laurent almost lost his balance on the stoop. “I do not wish, for you to feel compelled to do this just to please me and win my love. My heart is already yours.”

Laurent took Damianos’s hands and pressed them against his heart. “This decision is my own. I have never been so sure of such a thing in all my life.”

Laurent perhaps had a sparkle of mischief in his eye as well that night. For when Damianos’s smile returned, a child’s giggle bubbled out of him and he pulled Damianos in side. Barely giving a thought to the door, he raced Damianos upstairs to his room.

“Is not your uncle home?”

“No. He is with our doctor, Mr. Paschal, for an overnight study. The House shall be ours for a few hours more, now that Jord and Nikandros have new chambers to christen.” A fine sort of jest that had them giggling and laughing once more. Laurent was so lost at that moment, he did not notice Damianos coming ever closer and closer until Damianos was already kissing him.

Laurent had never been kissed. He had learned the mechanics through observation of gentlemen’s ‘testing’ of his ladies. He had no way of knowing if the breathless feeling was to be expected. He gripped Damianos’s hands so tightly, he feared he would be hurting him. Thinking was a difficult task, so easily passed over by the pleasure of kissing Damianos back. Damianos groaned against him, a sound that sent chills down his back. The kiss deepened, harder and full of passion. He could feel Damianos in every inch of him and he wanted more. Laurent pressed his tongue against the seam of Damianos’s lips, as he had seen done so often.

Damianos pulled back abruptly. Laurent seriously stumbled, to be thrown out of his trance. Damianos turned his head to the side, his hand over his mouth. “I...Have I done something wrong? Please forgive me, I have no...experience in being intimate. I merely wanted to...I…” Words tumbled out of Laurent’s mouth as his mind returned to him, through the fog of pleasure.

“You have done me no wrong, Laurent.” Damianos insisted, cutting off Laurent.

“Then what could have made you stopped?” Laurent had not intended for the words to leave him so raw, so hurt, but in doing so, they hung that much more truthful between them.

“Laurent, I…” Damianos must have not expected the words to be reflected in Laurent’s eyes, for his breath caught in his throat so quickly Laurent could hear it. Damianos stroked his fingers down Laurent’s cheek and Laurent turned into the touch. “I share this body, this skin and hair, with hundreds of beasts at the same moment. Every second of the day, I am wrestling with the urge to sleep and mount.” Damianos shook his head, as if he did not believe the words himself. “But one look from you, and my battles are lost, my resolve is made weaker, and the thought of hurting you is all that holds me back. I would ask that you spare me a moment, for your own comfort.”

Damianos...afraid to hurt Laurent? Such a thought was completely laughable. Laurent was a man, not a simpering fool. He could stand, he could fight. Were Damianos to try to force him...oh. Oh. Damianos was worried about Laurent’s pleasure...over his own. _What a man, indeed. One of a kind._

_And I am, too_.

Laurent summoned ice to his fingertips, cocking a coy smile. “You worry about being brash, Damianos?” He whispered, for Jord had told him that men enjoyed a soft voice in the bedroom. Damianos’s eyes were hooded almost immediately upon the word, or upon the touch. So Laurent let his cold touch travel up his arm. “You have no reason to be, for I am quite capable of voicing my own...desires.” Laurent did not know how husky his voice could be.

“Laurent.” Damianos whispered back, and Laurent could prove Jord’s advice true.

Laurent placed his hand on Damianos’s chest, where Damianos could wrap his arms around Laurent’s waist. Laurent let the ice spread over his whole palm - something he was observing Damianos enjoyed a considerable amount. “The aggressive nature of your...wicked side, as we may name it, may prove...attractive to me.”

“Whatever could you mean, my prince?”

“Kiss me, Damianos.” Laurent ordered. “Kiss me too fiercely. Hold me too tightly. Make me believe, now and forever, that this is real. For not in my wildest dreams could I picture this moment, you here, wanting me. And should this moment be over so quickly, I will make this memory last for the rest of my days.”

Worry melted away from Damianos’s features. Those glistening eyes looked back in his soul. “Then let us make a wonderful memory, shall we not?” Damianos kissed him again and their world was created. All of London fell away, the House of Vere, and even the Law of the Endowed. All that Laurent knew was the warmth of Damianos pressing against him.

“If only I have lost my resistance sooner.” Laurent gasped when they parted for air. Damianos pressed his lips against his jaw, between where skin met cloth. Laurent thought he felt the smallest bit of teeth and anticipation raced through his skin. Laurent’s hands raised to the buttons of Damianos’s waistcoat with hopes that Damianos would do the same. Suddenly Damianos’s teeth found a particularly sensitive bit of skin and Laurent moaned, letting it echo in his bedroom. “I could have acclimated my body to such pleasure.”

“Then we will shall make up for lost time.” They had been moving, Laurent supposed, for the next moment, his back was against his bedding. Laurent had no doubt the blush of lust covered both their faces. Damianos kissed his cheek. “Fear not, my beautiful prince, your servant shall do so.”

Laurent’s cheeks hurt from smiling. He pulled Damianos close for another thoughtless kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...I don't write sex scenes.


	14. A Night, in the Daylight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An outing, of another sorts

Laurent awoke to the sunlight warmly streaming down his naked backside. Blunt fingers scratched the bumps of his spine, rising and falling. As sleep faded away, his ears picked up the sound of someone singing.

_It was a lover and his lass,_  
_With a hey, and a ho,  
_ _and a hey nonino,_

_That o’er the green_  
_cornfield did pass,_  
_In the springtime,  
_ _the only pretty ring time,_

_When birds do sing,_  
_hey ding a ding, ding;_  
_Sweet lovers  
_ _love the spring._

“I confess, I am convinced you wish to woo me with Shakespeare.” Laurent said. Damianos chuckled and Laurent felt a kiss pressed to his hair. He buried himself deeper into Damianos’s embrace, soaking up the sun into his skin.

“You graced me with song last night. I thought it only befitting I sing for you come morning.” Damianos’s kisses made a crown in Laurent’s hair. “To prove my love for you.” He whispered in Laurent’s ear before promptly biting it.

Laurent laughed, for the nip actually tickled before it hurt. He raised his head and looked Damianos in the face. A face of complete openness, and raw emotions. Laurent smiled at him with his whole heart. “And is it as much as my love for you?”

“Oh, I hope it is more so, my prince.” Damianos tucked the blond that fell into Laurent’s blue eyes behind one ear, and held his palm to Laurent’s cheek. “And that it grows every day.”

Laurent chuckled. He cupped Damianos’s face in both his hands, and kissed him. It was a chaste experience, just as a morning kiss should be. An action that reaffirmed love every day. Laurent parted, cocking an eyebrow when Damianos followed him. Laurent laid against his shoulder, breathing in the woodsy scent of Damianos, taking it to his memory.

“You are...unharmed, I imagine?” Damianos asked.

“No more than what sex between two men can hurt. And I would not trade it for anything.” Laurent angled his head to look up at Damianos. “You do not regret it, either?”

“Not for all my riches in the world, would I leave your side.”

_Not for anything else in the world, would I leave yours._ Laurent thought. “Has the House returned?”

“They arrived close to 2 in the morning. Jord and Nikandros attended them. Your uncle has arrived, too, not too hours ago. He seemed in quite good spirits.” Damianos fell silent. Laurent focused on him and his fingers at his back. “Will you ever tell me the story of how you came into his care?”

Laurent rolled his shoulders, now hiding in Damianos’s shoulder. “What is there to tell?” He murmured. “My family was dead and he is my only living relative. It was either him or the streets. The choice was not very difficult.”

“How did they die?” Damianos asked after a moment.

Damianos did not press him for an answer, remaining quiet while Laurent gathered his thoughts. Laurent focused on the touch trailing his back more than the words he had never spoken aloud. “My mother died when I was very young. My father never did tell me what happened to her. I remember being determined to ask my brother when I was older.” Laurent shook, suddenly realizing he never had asked. He never would know why his mother died. Seventeen years, she had not crossed his mind. What a filial son he had grown to be.

Damianos kissed his temple. Laurent continued.

“We were traveling to the countryside. My family lived in London as well, in Westminster. We had invited my uncle along with us for holiday - he could walk then, you know.” Laurent paused. “That...that was the night he couldn’t anymore.”

“What happened?” Damianos instructed, just to keep Laurent present, in bed with him, and not lost in his memories.

“Wolves.” Laurent whispered. “We had stopped for the night, when these...terrific, gigantic beasts came out of the woods. They attacked us all in our sleep. My uncle had tried to wake him so that we could run away. I think...I think he wanted to keep me from seeing my brother and father.”

“And did you? See them?”

Laurent nodded. Damianos’s shoulder felt wet - he had not realized he had begun to cry. “I thought I could give my brother his blood back if I kept my hands on his body...that I could keep him with me, just a little bit longer.” Damianos wrapped both his arms around Laurent, holding them tight chest to chest, like he was shielding Laurent from the cruelty of the world in his arms.

“The lord of the grounds we were staying on rode through the next dawn. He saw me...my uncle says I was surrounded by snow. My powers...they were so tightly tied to my emotions as a boy.” His voice was barely above a whisper. Without even trying, he could feel the congealed blood on his hands. If he closed his eyes, the dead expression on his brother’s face -

Damianos rolled the two of them - Laurent onto his back and Damianos towering above him. The movement jostled Laurent, physically and mentally. He looked up at Damianos, who only looked back with that same open expression. He was not afraid of Laurent’s tragedy - Laurent dared to say Damianos seemed to love him the more for it.

Damianos cupped his face. Laurent could feel his thumb stroking under his eyes, wiping away left-behind trails of tears. Laurent closed his eyes. He wanted to remember this now, remember this feeling, not the death of his family.

“You’re so beautiful.” Damianos whispered.

Laurent laughed, mockingly. “You are already in my bed, Damianos. Your task completed - there is no need to woo any further.”

“On the contrary, Laurent,” Damianos said. Laurent wrapped his arms around Damianos’s shoulders, letting his fingers to be the ones that trailed over the dark, rough skin of his back, “I shall woo you all the more. You have known much sadness in your life. I am determined to overshadow it.” Damianos dropped his hand, letting it land on the bed. “When I tell you that you are beautiful, I mean only that. That you are wonderfully beautiful, that I can not wish to stop looking at you, and that I never will. That I am yours, fully and without conditions.”

“Then never stop.” Laurent said. He brought one hand up and carded it through Damianos’s curls. “For I will only look at you, and beautiful dresses.”

Damianos laughed deep in his throat, and nearly cemented his declaration with a new bout of pleasurable scandal, when they both heard a slide of paper underneath the door. Awkwardly, they both craned their heads to see it. A folded letter had suddenly appeared that would have most assuredly not been there last night.

“It is Nikandros, no doubt.” Laurent surmised. “Come to bid us to breakfast.”

“I can only hope he means to be so charitable.” Damianos sat up more and after a moment, it was evident he meant to rise. Laurent disentangled his arms, tangling in the sheets to keep the warmth of the sun. He admired Damianos’s naked form as he had not been able to in the night and firelight. The way his dark skin made him somewhat ethereal, walking to the door. His tall frame against the door gave Laurent a sense of security - that whatever was pass that door, Damianos could protect him - with just his body alone.

Damianos unfolded the letter and scanned its lines quickly. His relaxed posture tightened immediately. “Blast it all.” He dropped the paper, leaning against the door.

“What is it?” Laurent rose to his knees on the bed.

“Kastor - he has returned to Ios. In this visit, my men report that he was seen taking candles to the land, as if he intends to scorch it dry.” Damianos looked remorseful. “Laurent, I - ”

“Go.” Laurent left the bed and walked across in Damianos’s steps. He pressed his form against Damianos’s front, relishing in the arms sliding around his waist and cradling him. “I understand completely. You must protect your home as I must protect mine. You will always be a man of two hearths.” Laurent rose on his toetops and pressed a hard kiss to Damianos’s lips. He trailed his fingers, naught but skin and nails, down the taut chest. “The sooner you are finished with him,” Laurent whispered, “the sooner I may see your return.”

“I pray another gentleman may not tempt you in that time with words of Machiavelli and Lao Tzu.” Damianos whispered back. Laurent cocked an eyebrow and they both laughed.

Damianos kissed him again, open-mouthed and full of love. Laurent melted into his arms, feeling every ounce of it - desired.


	15. Truth in the Eyes of Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurent learns the truth of the death of his brother and father from a most unfortunate person

Much later in the day, when Laurent would usually rise and so would the rest of the house, Nikandros knocked on Laurent’s door. Embarrassingly, Laurent was folding up his linens for one of the servants to have washed. Laurent bit his tongue to hold back his blush.

“I am correct in assuming your courtship with Damianos has...taken to new heights, then?” Nikandros asked, a cocksure air about him that Laurent so wanted to break.

So he did. “As correct as I am in assuming Jord is to leave my household and join yours?”

Nikandros laughed. Laurent took pride in seeing the blush on his cheeks. “Yes, well...that may be prolonged. I would not deprive him of your company so quickly, and there’s the moving of his belongings, of course.”

“Of course.”

A servantgirl maneuvered around them and took away Laurent’s linens. Laurent caught her eye - knowing and slightly teasing. He chuckled. It was a mark of pride, perhaps, for the whole world to know he had been loved and loved well.

“It was fortunate that Damianos met you, Laurent. His last visit to London was nowhere near as fortunate.” Nikandros strode to the windowsill. He looked down at the hundreds of people, passing by.

“Yes,” Laurent chuckled, “you mentioned. The wonderful Lady Jokaste and her dalliance with Mr. Kastor Akielon.”

Nikandros shook his head. “Kastor...Damianos was always so blinded when it came to his brother. Never would take my advice about him - he was always so determined to see the good in him.”

“Damianos says that their animosity began when Kastor became of age.” Laurent said. “Do you suggest that Kastor’s hatred began much earlier?”

“Oh, upon my honor, Kastor hated Damianos the moment he was born. Perhaps even he did not know why, but to any outside eye, there was no ‘brotherly affection’ between them. Kastor would break Damen’s toys, steal his books, and wear his clothes with the intention to tear them and say it was all Damen’s fault. Every time, Damianos saw these advances as playful barbs, rather than the early signs he should have seen.”

Laurent imagined a smaller Damianos, looking up at his brother with the loving glitter in his eye that Damianos looked at him with. That Kastor would not be moved by it, he was a villain indeed.

“I remember the last conversation I ever had with Kastor. It was only two years before he was cast out of the family.” Nikandros stood in sunlight, but his memories cast a shadow on his expression.

Laurent stepped forward, letting his boots announce his approach. “Did something happen to incur your distrust, Nikandros? Something terrible?”

“Yes.” Nikandros said, the word but a breath of sound.

Laurent breathed in deep. “Pray, I wish that you would tell me. Any harm that Kastor can do to Damianos, I would rather prepare for it than let it surprise him.”

“Damianos would not have you harm him...and Kastor is a violent man.”

“All the more reason that I must know what I am to face when I introduce myself.”

The corner of Nikandros’s mouth quirked up. “Damen would rather I not tell you and I am of half a mind to agree with him - he should be the one to tell you.” Nikandros turned around and rested his back against the window. “Jord tells me you know that I am Endowed, same as Damianos. Suffice to say, Kastor is as well. Eleven years ago, we went running through the woods outside of London.”

“We were not three miles into the thick that Kastor attacked Damen. They snarled and snapped at each other and with each passing moment, the animalistic nature of our abilities clouded any semblance of human thought. We were animals, through and through. And we smelled blood.” Nikandros crossed his arms. Laurent thought the large man might be trying to make himself small. “We came across a small camp and we took what we needed. The specifics of it all were lost to the frenzy, but when we awoke the next morning, our hands were covered in blood and our mouths and stomachs were unnaturally filled.”

“...How did you know what you did?” Laurent could not believe what he was hearing. Surely Damianos, even unhinged, could not be capable…

“We came upon the lord of the lands, after we had composed ourselves. Lord Torveld warned us that there had been an animal attack in the night. A father and son were dead, with the second son in shock. There was an uncle, I remember, who he said the doctors did not expect to walk again, if he were to survive.”

Lord Torveld...that name was familiar to Laurent. The words flowed like molasses inside Laurent’s mind, gathering together to form one conclusion.

“What...what animal forms did you all take that night?”

“Wolves. We had planned as such so that any human who saw us wouldn’t be alarmed. Well, no more than any other human at seeing a wolf, of course.”

“Of course.” Laurent echoed. But he was no longer standing before Nikandros, in his office, in London, or even in his twenty-four year old body. He was thirteen, freezing in the woods of Lord Torveld, kneeling in a foot of snow over the dead body of his beloved brother.

“Laurent...are you quite alright?”

Laurent made a noise of acknowledgment, though his mind was still a decade away. Nikandros called his name again and Laurent looked up at him. He cleared his throat, schooling his features.

“And Damianos...he blames Kastor for this?”

“At the present, perhaps he does. But that morning, Damianos was convinced it was our fault, our lack of control that created this tragedy.” Nikandros nodded to Laurent. “He was disfigured by it, you know. Not horribly, mind you. But if you look at his back, which…” Nikandros blushed, “I suppose you have, there are raised scars across the skin - a branching pattern. It must have been from a retaliation, I suppose. Damen carries them around on his skin like a mark of shame.”

“And...and did he do anything for this family?” Laurent wrung his hands over one another.

Nikandros shrugged his shoulders. “I believe he intended to confront the family, but nothing ever came of it. I suppose he gave up after a few years. Truly Laurent, are you well?”

“A sudden headache. No doubt brought on by the rain.” Laurent pointed out the window. The sunlight had clouded over and now a downpour commenced. “You should return to your house before the streets are washed out.”

Nikandros chuckled, nodding. “I suppose you are right. Good Day, Laurent.”

Laurent nodded in turn, but did not verbally return the parting. Nikandros and he took each other’s spots, Nikandros continuing to walk out the door. Laurent opened the window. “Before you leave,” Laurent called over his shoulder, “Would you send Jord in? I’d like to speak with him.”

“Of course Laurent. I will not deny you his company.” The door opened and closed again.

The sound of the rainfall was pounding in Laurent’s ears. It drowned out everything else but only the loudest thoughts. Lord Torveld, eleven years, wolves, father and son dead.

Laurent screamed.

Frozen crystal shards fell to the ground. Shouts of surprise and fear made their way up to him. The windowsill was covered in a blanket of ice, stretching down the wall and to the floor behind him. Laurent felt so much colder inside his heart.

He’d wanted to remember last night for the rest of his days. He wanted to remember the burning passion that he’d never felt before inside every touch. He wanted Damianos’s face etched into his sleeping eyelids.

He wanted it all to burn. To see every memory go up in an inferno would be a gift. If Laurent could rip out his heart, free himself of pain he’d never felt before deep in his core, there was not a chance he would not.

Laurent tried to breathe through the cold. His voice quavered in a sob that he clenched his hand over. No, he refused. He would not shed tears for Damianos Akielon. He would cry no more.


	16. The Beholder, Beholding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurent confronts Damianos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we come to this fic's namesake! The song and the scene that spurred this WHOLE fic!!!

Two weeks had passed since Damianos left for Ios to stop his brother. During that time he sent no letter, nor any gift. Laurent was glad he had not. He did not trust himself not to have another outbreak. The glass of the window had still not been replaced from his last outburst. The spring air had turned the room colder at night.

Jord had become manager in Laurent’s stead while Laurent recovered. When he could, Laurent was sure to pay him handsomely for his pains. But Laurent could not be expected to perform his duties to their full extent at the numerous outings he had lined up for the whores. And he would not hurt the House more than he already had by forbidding them to go.

Jord understood, after Laurent confessed everything he had learned after Nikandros left. Laurent did not know if Jord was still teasing Nikandros with commitment or if he had thrown him out as Laurent should have and truthfully, Laurent did not know which pain he more preferred. He had not seen Nikandros since - that was all that mattered.

“Laurent.” Laurent raised his head from behind his desk. He could only imagine how he looked - pale skin, blue lips, and unkempt hair. Nicaise was not outwardly disturbed, standing in the doorway. “Mr. Akielon’s here.”

Laurent might have almost laughed.

“Send him in, Nicaise.”

Nicaise did not know the particulars of Laurent’s downfall, only that it had something to do with Damianos. He obeyed, closing the door and retreating down the steps. A few minutes later, Damianos walked in, full of sunshine and light.

“I have missed you, my sweet prince.” Damianos crossed the room in a wide gait. He arched over the desk and placed a warm kiss on Laurent’s cheek. He grimaced. “My love, you’re so cold. Are you well?”

“Perfectly.” Laurent lied. “I did not tell Nicaise to tend to the fire. Will you take care of it, Damianos?”

“Of course.” Damianos bounded in three light steps over to the fireplace, nestled into Laurent’s bookcase. A stack of fresh logs sat beside it and Damianos threw them in, pushing and pulling at the fire with a poker. Damianos looked back at him over his shoulder. “What is that you are reading?”

“Your letters.” Laurent rose from his desk, gathering the pages in his hands. He walked slowly, timing each step with his voice. “When I first read them, I knew in that moment you were mine.”

Damianos stood before the fire, smiling down at Laurent. Half of his face was brightened by the flames, the other half hidden in shadows. Laurent stood just outside of the light, in the darkness.

“Your letters destroyed my defenses, word by word. In each line, you built me a cathedral, so that my devotion to you might grow. In each paragraph, you built me a palace, that I might live in luxury beside you.”

Damianos nodded. “I hope one day soon, you may see those architectures.” Damianos pulled Laurent close and Laurent let him. He leaned back from Damianos’s chest, leaving room enough that he may hold his arms up.

Laurent showed ‘The Leviathan’ up for Damianos to see. “Do you know what Jord said to me, the day we received this?” Damianos shook his head. “He told me, “Be careful, Laurent. For men like him, will do what it takes to survive.” Laurent faced the fire. “That we are not the sort to share the marriage bed.”

Laurent threw the book, and every page of written dedication, into the fire.

Damianos was surprised. His hands fell from Laurent’s body, head turning from the fireplace to Laurent’s rapidly paling face. “Laurent...are you quite sober?”

Laurent laughed a twisted, bitter sound. The fire lit a wild spark inside of him. Frost coated his nails. Damianos could watch it traveling down his trousers to the floor. “I scarcely know myself. I feel like Poor Edgar, trusting so much and betrayed so insufferably.” Laurent twisted his head and stared Damianos dead in the eye. “How long have you known you were my brother’s murderer?”

Damianos, damn him, did not look surprised. No, no, just as he had before walking into the grove, he only sighed in resignation. Damianos _had_ known. He had known who Laurent was to him and pursued him still. Laurent felt the frost harden into icicles around his fingertips. “How long, Damianos?”

Damianos breathed in. “The morning after Ravenel. When you revealed the death of your family, I knew.”

“And still you dared to return?”

“I did. Laurent, if you would only let me explain - ” Damianos dared to approach a step closer.

Laurent let his ice stretch to meet him. “There is no explanation you could possibly have that would allow me to forgive the man who killed, slaughtered, a beloved father and a favorite brother. One that has crippled my uncle and left me to make a living in a house of sin and subterfuge.” He felt tears prickling the back of his eyes, so Laurent turned to face the fire. “You have made me a whore for my brother’s killer - for that I must congratulate you. And as a whore, I will bill you appropriately once you are gone from this place.” It was a new sensation, to feel cold enveloping each word leaving Laurent’s throat.

Damianos was wise to retreat, but Laurent still saw him at the mantle out of the corner of his eye. “I will leave, but let me speak my part before I do. I courted you without knowledge of our past relation to each other, and I had every intention of coming forth when the moment arised.”

“The moment arose eleven years ago when you awoke with blood on your maw.” Laurent glared at him. “Nikandros told me everything. You yielded defeat only a few fruitless years, with no regard to the pain you had exacted on that broken family in the woods. Perhaps you and your brother are no different, in the light of day.”

Damianos sighed. Laurent wondered if he was holding back murderous intent. Would that not be a spectacle. “You speak with intent to hurt, I can see that. However, I believe your feelings valid and will not aim to turn you away from them, or for you to see how truly sorry I am for the pain I have caused you.”

_He is too kind._ A small voice said inside Laurent’s heart. It was the voice that had chosen to write back to Damianos, and sing at Ravenel. It was the hopeful child inside of him who had gazed back at his desk that day and decided upon accepting Damianos for however long they had.

Laurent threw that voice into the fire as well.

“Whatever price you would have me pay for the death of your brother and father, I will accept it with all of my heart and without complaint. Money, influence, injury, and mortification are all options for you to command me do.” For a moment, Laurent honestly believed he could demand Damianos renounce his worldly possessions and live like a spaniel at the foot of Laurent’s bed, and he would comply.

Laurent’s jaw went tense. He could feel his body turn cold - a livewire. One touch and possibly the whole House would turn frozen. His blue eyes pilfered in between the rising flames. Laurent had never had such racing thoughts in his head, with sound making it impossible to separate one from the next.

“Leave.” Laurent forced out. A whirl of freezing wind aided the words and threatened the fire. “And never return to the House of Vere. I will not rush your visit with your cousin, but pray that I never see your face again in the streets of London, for I do not know how I may react.”

Damianos nodded. “I will do as you ask of me.” Laurent heard steps farther and farther away. The door opened and the steps stopped. Painful silence sounded as clear as a bell.

“Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, Mr. deVere, and accept my best wishes for your health, and your happiness.” Those were the last words Laurent deVere ever expected to hear from the departing Damianos Akielon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, ok - gonna clear up a few things.
> 
> I like the plot point of Damen killed Auguste, ok? It's an interesting dynamic for a relationship to have to deal with, and since everyone included the Regent's BS (killtheregentkilltheregent), I'm always like "hey...what about Auguste's whole deal?"
> 
> and then this came along, so....yeah. Sorry about that...


	17. End in Fire, End in Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The townhouse of Nikandros Kyroi is visited by a distraught Nicaise and Jord

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok - two big things.
> 
> One: this chapter contains a scene of **ATTEMPTED RAPE**. Please read carefully and feel free to skip the italicized parts if you think that best for yourself. Do what is best for your mental health, please.
> 
> Two: just like with the whole brother-killing-thing, I have some strong feelings towards Jokaste and Aimeric....specifically in the "I Hate Them" department. I'm fine with fics that give them redemption arcs, but for me - yeah, they're kinda scum. And it's my fic...soo....
> 
> Enjoy!!~

A harsh pounding at the door could be heard even in the high attic Damianos had made his residence while he stayed in London. Four weeks had passed since Damianos had last been to the House of Vere. He knew there was no chance Laurent’s hatred towards him would abate, but he could not make any excuse to Nikandros as to why he remained in London still. Not that Nikandros ever asked of him to leave. The townhouse had become a quiet melancholy place.

Animated voices traveled through the tall house. Intrigue piqued, Damianos left his desk and walked down the stairs. In the foyer Damianos was surprised to see Jord’s towering form, and beside him a small thing full of sharp angles and skin various shades of blue. As he approached, Damianos could more clearly see it was Nicaise, encased in a body of sapphire - no doubt his endowment manifesting itself. Why, Damianos knew not.

Jord’s expression was panicked, focus shifting over to Damianos the moment he was in view. “Damianos.” He exclaimed. “You must come to the House. Laurent…”

“Good God, what is the matter? What has become of Laurent?” Damianos demanded.

“He has...it is dreadful.” Jord squeezed his eyes shut. He let go of Nicaise’s hand, burying both of his own in his short curls. About his, vases and candles began to rise of their own volition...or, more accurately, of Jord’s volition. Nikandros drew close to Jord, cupping his face. He spoke soft words that Damianos cared not for and the items returned to their proper places.

Nicaise side-stepped the lovers, walking head on to Damianos. “We don’t know what happened to him. He walked into his uncle’s room an hour ago and suddenly, the house turned cold. We were able to leave in time, but when we had turned back, the building was encased in ice.”

“In ice?” Nikandros questioned.

“Has he ever done something like this before?” Damianos ignored Nikandros’s outburst. His focus was solely on this testimony.

“Never to this scale. He was able to cover corners of the room, a radius of his stance, but only in moments of complete distress. He has not done such since…” Jord quieted, but Damianos understood. _Not since he was a child...not since_ you _left him_.

Damianos flagged down a servant. “Ready my steed. I will need to leave as soon as he is prepared.”

That turned Nikandros’s attention to his cousin. He look at Jord for just a precious moment more and pulled away. “Pause, Damianos.” He clamped a hand on Damianos’s shoulder. He spoke, low and secretive. “There is no need for you to burden yourself like this. You and he have no connection now.” Nikandros sighed. “He certainly saw to that.”

Damianos did not miss how Nikandros’s eyes passed back to Jord. Damianos could see how this sudden appearance pained him. Their relationship had been strained while Damianos had been gone and after Laurent’s confrontation, completely broken. This was their first tender moment in four weeks, and it was poisoned by darkness and grief.

“His uncle could be dead, Nikandros. And him too distraught to control his abilities.” Nikandros rolled his eyes. “The gravity of his powers, they could have a great affect on the Law of the Endowed. We stand to lose all we have, Nikandros. This has nothing to do with him and me.”

“It has everything to do with the two of you.” Nikandros sneered. “He threw you out and still you love him.”

“He threw me out because of what we did!” Damianos had not realized how their whispers had grown louder, till they were basically shouting. He looked at the shock across Jord’s and Nicaise’s faces. He cleared his throat. “All of his misfortune traces back to our mistake. His future is my responsibility. I am going.”

“No.” Jord sniffled and rubbed at his eyes, erasing the tear marks they had all seen. He shook his head. “No, Nik...Mr. Kyroi is right. It was quite a mistake that we came here. This is not your trouble. I’m sorry to have wasted your time. Come, Nicaise.” Jord reached out for Nicaise’s hand. The young boy undoubtedly did not want to go, but Jord pulled him along to the door at a much stronger will than his.

Fortunately, Jord had exhausted himself with his abilities and his emotions. One step backwards and he quite suddenly collapsed against the walls of the hall. Nikandros dove to his side in a moment and held him up, Nicaise helping on the other side.

“You are not well, Mr. Arles. Please, have a seat.” Nikandros awkwardly shuffled him to a bench. Jord sat, completely out of the moment to notice.

Damianos stood before him so that he would be heard. “Your strength has been depleated - you have done much today. I will go to Laurent and see what is the cause of this unease. There is no use in burdening yourself of this situation when you already have suffered so much.” Jord raised his head, perhaps in question. Damianos shifted his eyes to Nikandros beside him.

Jord bit his lip. Damianos eyed Nikandros’s hands, rubbing soft circles against Jord’s wrist. Jord nodded, “Thank you, Damianos.”

Damianos nodded in return. Nikandros’s servant reappeared, telling him that his ride was ready and with his overcoat in her hands.

Nicaise grabbed onto his coattails when Damianos made to put it on. “Whatever you have done to Laurent, and whatever he has done to you, will pale in comparison to the hell I will rain down on you should you hurt him this day.” His blue hand clenched tightly around the fabric, fixing Damianos to the spot.

Damianos nodded. “I will try my best to save him.” He affirmed.

_The arrival of Aimeric Ambassateur was both a normality and a rarity at the House of Vere. In the commotion of everything of days past, Laurent had quite forgotten that Mr. Ambassateur had predicted his arrival._

“ _You are needed in your uncle’s room, Mr. Laurent.” Laurent nodded to Aimeric. He laid down his pen and followed Aimeric up and up the staircase. Aimeric made no conversation and Laurent offered none in return._

_The door to his uncle’s room opened. His uncle sat in his chair beside his bed with a welcoming smile. The door closed again and Laurent’s world was white._

Damianos rode tall through the streets, galloping at an alarming rate. He interrupted pedestrians and only called back to apologize to about half of them. Carriages halted and spooked horses went rearing, but Damianos’s only focus was getting to the House of Vere as soon as possible.

The buildings were turning darker, Damianos noted as he turned down a street. The signs for brothel houses were cracked and half-dressed ladies, at mid-day, waved at him through the windows.

Snow fell from the skies, in the middle of May.

Damianos kicked his horse faster.

“ _Is it wonderful?”_

 - “ _Is it wonderful?” -_

_Damianos had whispered those words with gentle kindness and passionate affection in his ear, buried inside Laurent. Laurent had only responded with laughter that quickly transformed into a moan. His body shook with satisfaction and he whispered to the air that it never end._

_The world returned to Laurent all at once when his uncle whispered the same._

_He was buried inside of Aimeric, who moaned naked in his uncle’s bed. Just as he had been forced to fuck Aimeric for his uncle’s amusement before during every one of his visits over the last seven years._

_He had never released his ice from his cock before. It was not a wholly uncomfortable experience, not from his end. Aimeric howled in pain. The boy scurried up the bed, his legs clenching shut._

“ _Run.” Laurent’s voice was barely above a whisper._

_Aimeric did not need to be told twice. With barely a moment’s thought to grab at his clothes, Aimeric was fled from the room._

_Laurent whirled on his uncle, who wisely wheeled back and away. Laurent stalked closer, his bare feet stretching ice with each step. One spin spun out on the smooth surface and the chair tipped over. His uncle was sprawled on the ground, and at Laurent’s mercy._

_For Laurent remembered it all._

Damianos dismounted his horse and hitched it to the post. He spared a few moments to scratch the beast’s muzzle, letting his voice change to huff at it in comfort. Even his horse knew the falling snow was unnatural. Whatever had turned Laurent’s mood, Damianos could not afford for his horse to turn frightened and run.

The house was indeed completely covered. The blue bricks that had made the House of Vere so iconic in the red light district was emphasized with the ice that encapsulated it. An eerie sort of building that even a sculptor could not have manifested out of ice. The door slid against the floor with no resistance. Damianos stepped carefully so as to not fall. Coming to the banister he grabbed hold with one hand and pulled off his riding boots. With one off, he changed his legs into wolf paws while he pulled at the other. The hairs on his body grew longer and more coarse against the heavy cold in the air.

The cold felt suddenly familiar, when both paws were on the ice. Fully transformed and prepared, he raced up the steps, desperate to see Laurent.

For Damianos remembered it all.

_Laurent had been so excited to spend a night in the woods, more than he was excited to see the open countryside. Auguste had gone two years before, but Laurent had been too young at the time. “Focus on your studies, my boy,” His father said, “and you can come with us when you are older.”_

“ _When you are older” was his father’s favorite phrase, Laurent gathered. For his father used it whenever he wanted his youngest to stop questioning something._

_They hadn’t meant to stop that night. His father was confident that they could make it by mid-night if they traveled through the night. Laurent was happy his uncle had convinced him to let the horses rest instead. He was so anxious to showcase his new abilities, he was almost bouncing in his seat._

“ _Your brother and I will gather some firewood to last us through the night, Laurent.” His father said. “You stay here with your uncle and when we come back, you can show us what you are so desperate to reveal.”_

_Laurent nodded violently, because he knew it made his father laugh when he did something silly like that. His father’s voice rang out low but full of cheer and he cradled his son’s cheeks in both of his gloved hands._

_Laurent could not wait patiently. Ice burst off of his fingers like tiny sparks. He eyed his uncle with the horses, brushing them down and tending to their feed. He could practice unnoticed and still contain the surprise. He inched closer to the fire and focused on the tallest embers. Laurent twined his tiny fingers in and out of each other and giggled madly, watching the embers solidify into crystals of ice. One after another, without fail. Oh, how proud his father would be for the control Laurent had mastered. Even Auguste was still struggling with his powers at his age._

_In a moment, Laurent could not feel his ice anywhere inside of him._

_Someone had kicked the air from his lungs. Laurent had never been without ice in his veins or cold beneath his skin, even in his happiest moments. Laurent looked down at his hands, full of warm skin. Panic welled up in his throat, a cry at the top of it._

_A hand covered his mouth just before he could scream._

“ _Be not afraid, young one.” His uncle’s voice whispered in his ear. “I need you to a good boy for me. A nice, warm boy for me.”_

_Laurent trembled and not from the cold. The chill of autumn air was nothing compared to the sensation of wood underneath his palms. He was being bent over the logs around the fire. His uncle unclasped the flaps at the back of his trousers._

_Laurent cried silently, searching desperately for the smallest bit of ice inside of himself. He could not be empty, be without his ice. Such a thing was not possible. The ice made up his very being. Without it he useless shell of a person. What would his family do with a normal son?_

_He felt the total girth of his uncle’s member on his backside. It all became so real - this was what they would do with him._

“ _Just be quiet, Laurent. It will all be over soon.” His uncle laughed behind him. “Well, hopefully not too soon.”_

_Laurent felt a stretching pressure and blood trickle down his thighs._

_The smallest cry spilled out through the tears._

“ _help.”_

_A glow in the woods came closer to the camp at an alarming speed. His brother, beaming with the strength of the sun, dropped his armful of logs and gawked. Steps behind him, his father gazed upon him. “Reginald!” He exclaimed, and the world was thrown into shadows._

_His uncle was torn from him. Laurent fell to the ground on unstable legs. His brother still shone bright with sunlight and fell to his aid beside him. Laurent clung to him, the tears flowing freely. “I can’t feel it.” He murmured over and over into Auguste’s waistcoat._

“ _Laurent? Laurent, it is alright now. Uncle can not hurt you.” Auguste brushed his hand over Laurent’s short hair._

_Laurent shook his head. “No, no.” He said. “I can’t feel it. I can’t feel it.”_

_The sounds of his uncle and his father’s fighting sounded far away as Laurent cried. He clenched his hands around Auguste, willing the ice he couldn’t find to appear in his palms._

_Wolves arrived instead._

“ _Father!” Auguste cried. He bundled Laurent close against him, extinguishing his light to hide in the shadows his father had created._

_Laurent opened his eyes, adjusted in the dark and watched it all happen through watery eyes. There were three of them, and they had all ignored the two of them. They were almost focused entirely on Laurent’s uncle. Their hackles raised, shoulders hunched, and fangs glistening white in the dark. Aleron deVere slowly backed away from his brother, eyes trained on the predators. Reginald deVere eyed them as well, but his attention was divided between them and his brother._

_He outstretched his hand. Laurent watched the wolves intimidating bodies convulse. Each shook their head back and forth. Whatever abilities his uncle controlled, they were trying to resist._

“ _You can not repress their powers, Reginald. The beasts are a part of who they are.”_

“ _I am well aware of that brother - it is not the beasts I wish gone.” Reginald stepped aside and the wolves locked onto Aleron. “It is the humans.”_

_Laurent watched with wide-eyes as the two biggest wolves launched at his father. Screams echoed through the woods, etching into his brain. His father’s dying screams would haunt his dreams…_

_The last wolf turned on him and his brother. He heard Auguste hushing him in his ear and realized he had been screaming as well. Reginald looked down on the both of them with a terrifying grin. He stretched out his hand and the wolf approached._

_His brother’s light blinded him, so he could not stop Auguste from laying him on the ground and standing guard between him and the wolf. Reginald laughed, so self-assured of his victory._

_The wolf launched at Auguste and they both tumbled to the ground. Laurent screamed, and the Reginald laughed all the louder._

_He had not expected, in releasing the savage instinct of the wolves, he himself would become a target. He did not see one wolf turn to him, ready, and launch at the midsection._

_In that moment of unpredictable chaos, the second his uncle’s influence over him broke  the freezing ice overflowed from Laurent in a violent rupture._

“ _STOP!”_

Damianos entered the uncle’s chambers. At the epicenter, perhaps the only dry spot in the house, stood Laurent, naked and exposed. His blue eyes bespoke of murder and torment and were focused solely on his uncle. Laurent gave no sign he was aware of Damianos’s presence, but Damianos was sure that he knew.

“Laurent…” He began. He slowly entered the room. In turn, he gave no acknowledgment to the uncle, who had fallen from his chair and whose lower extremities were turning a horrible pink from the freezing temperature.

“He deserves death. No,” Laurent ground out through clenched teeth. “He deserves worse than that. Simple death is too light of a punishment for the anguish he has exacted on me these past years.”

Laurent had not lashed out at him yet. Damianos dared to walk closer. “There is no falsehood in your words.” He whispered. “But do not be the one to exact it.”

“He took everything from me!” Laurent’s voice boomed through the house, seeming even louder in the stillness. He whirled on Damianos and Damianos could see everything. Tears ran through casings of ice that covered Laurent’s face. His skin had turned bluer than even Nicaise’s stone form. But it was his eyes, the always so blue and so emotional eyes, that broke Damianos’s heart. They remembered it all so clearly, now that whatever magic that altered their memories was removed, and he could tell Laurent felt the pain as vibrant as the day it happened.

“He murdered my family - used my father’s power to make me forget it ever happened. He violated my mind for seven years to enact his perverted fantasies, watching me fuck a child - a child! - like a disgusting voyeur. He...he manipulated you and your brother and your cousin into acting like curs let off their leashes.” Damianos had crossed the room. He stationed himself in Laurent’s view of his uncle, using his large frame to make himself Laurent’s only focus. Laurent’s arms rose to encompass him, nails scratching over black scars. Scars left behind from _his_ ice, his powers. All started from that terrible, terrible night. “What’s more, he...he…” Words lodged themselves in Laurent’s throat. Tears made it impossible to see no matter how tightly he screwed his eyes shut to clear them.

“Shhhh…..” Damianos hushed his sobs. “I know. I know, Laurent, I know.” Damianos cupped his cheeks, manipulating his hands into warm paws that melted away the ice.

“I hate him so much.” Laurent choked out.

Damianos kissed his forehead. “As you should. He has done the deeds of a villain and deserves nothing less than the innermost circle of hell.” He raked his claws through Laurent’s hair, hoping it would distract the turmoil of his thoughts. (It did.) “But his worst crime is the violence he did unto your family - _his_ family. If you kill him now, a part of you will forever be disappointed, that there is a small part of you that you share with him.”

“Listen to him, Laurent!” From far away, his uncle deigned it safe to speak his piece. “You do not want to kill me!”

Damianos looked over his shoulder. His face lengthened into a muzzle and his lips curled back into a snarl. Reginald deVere shrank back into the cold, whether from intimidation or in memory. Damianos felt a shred of pride; he remembered now that he was the one to deliver the crippling blow to Reginald that night.

He turned back to Laurent, looking nothing but human - at least in his face.

“He can not go unpunished.” Laurent insisted.

“He will not.” Damianos responded. “On that, we are agreed. But let me take care of it, and let your hands be cleaned of this.”

Damianos removed his overcoat, wrapping it around Laurent’s naked form. The frost on his skin had begun to melt and slowly turned to pale gooseflesh. Laurent clung to it, pulling it close. “My horse is outside. He will take you back to Nikandros’s house - Jord and Nicaise will want to know you are safe.”

“What will you do?”

Damianos framed his hand with both paws, looked with big brown eyes into terrified blue ones, and shook his head. “Let yourself be innocent in this, my love. Trust that I will take care of this all.”

Laurent held his gaze for as long as he could. “He will be made to pay for this all and you shall return to Nikandros’s? And we shall be rid of this burden once and for all?”

“Like it never happened.” Damianos said, with that extremely unpleasant smile and Laurent did not know if he meant this tragedy or their courtship. He supposed that was the reason for such vagueness. Damianos secured the coat closed. “Go, love. There are boots are the bottom of the stairs - a bit big, but they’ll work, if you need them.”

Damianos moved Laurent, walking with him as far as the doorway.

“Thank you...for coming, Damianos.” Laurent stopped at the door, gazing up at Damianos. “You have no reason to aid me and I...I thank you for your pains.”

Damianos ran his fingers down Laurent’s cheek. “It was no pain at all.” He shuffled the lapel of his jacket so it covered more of Laurent’s chest. “Now go - Jord will be sick with worry the longer you are out of his sight.”

Laurent only stepped back a little, his eyes sliding to the uselessly purple foot of his uncle. Perhaps if he let one more blast go…

“Go.” Damianos insisted. And off he went.


	18. Sleeping on a Pillow of Down and Nails - Mr. Akielon's Sixth Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damianos takes care of all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Laurent may seem a little OOC here. I know he's not a simpering maid when it comes to hard stuff, but, in my defense, he did just get, like, a shit-ton of memories dumped on him. He'd probably be a little out of it.

Jord was waiting in the hall when Laurent arrived. He wrapped his arms tightly around Laurent and Laurent let him. Nicaise directed them to a spare bedroom and disappeared shortly after.

Laurent did not protest much. Jord fussed over him to crawl into the expansive bed and wrapped him in warm furs.

“I must make my thanks to Mr. Kyroi.” Laurent murmured. His voice was hoarse and his tongue heavy, making his words slur together.

“Oh, hush now.” Jord pulled the fur closer together. Laurent looked up at Jord, who fixed him with a stare cold enough to rival Laurent’s. “Nikandros is happy to help however he can. Your only concern should be recovering from that horrible episode.” Laurent’s head dropped to his chest. He had not a shred of energy left to pretend he was composed. Jord shook his head. “Laurent, what on Earth happened to you?”

“I…”

A knock at the door interrupted them. Nicaise stood with a tray gripped tight in his hands. His body had not faded back into flesh and blood, sparkling blue in the candlelight. “I brought you some tea to warm you up. Mr. Kyroi had some rose tea in his pantry. I sweetened it for you, too.” Nicaise placed the tray over Laurent’s lap, rounding the bed to sit beside Jord on top of the covers.

Laurent watched Nicaise go, almost in a trance while staring at him. He raised his hand and let his fingers trail over the smooth surface of Nicaise’s face. “My dear boy…” He whispered, remembering every evil thing his uncle had said to him, to Aimeric, about Nicaise. What he could do to him if Laurent was not watching him so closely. What he would _make_ Laurent do to him, in his uncle’s stead.

_I wonder if he would cry sapphires...what a treasure..._

“Laurent?”

Laurent sniffled, clearing his throat. He picked up the tea and took a sip - it tasted as sweet as it smelled. Laurent’s stomach nearly churned at the taste. “What happened to the others? The ladies and men who were there...and the servants.”

Nicaise shrugged. Jord said, “Most ran out of the house when ice came down the staircase railing. Far as I knew, Nicaise and I were the last to leave. I gather they are probably housing in other brothels at this moment.”

Laurent nodded. He knew, were he at full faculties, he would make a quip here about unfaithful workers and docked pay. His mind was occupied, instead, with the thought of his uncle’s home, fortified in ice, growing smaller and smaller as Damianos’s horse galloped away.

“What did you do, Laurent?”

Jord swiped at the boy. “Let us give him some rest, Nicaise.” Jord leaned off the bed.

“It’s a legitimate question!”

“Nicaise!” Nicaise rolled his eyes, and then his body as he climbed off the bed. Laurent forced a weak smile to Jord at the door. Then he was alone.

Laurent’s mind could not help but wander back to that house. He supposed he would remain obsessed with it until he died.

What would Damianos do to his uncle? Finish his attack from the woods that night? Face him as a man and kill him?

Was Laurent expected to return to the house, and open its doors again as if he did not know how tainted it was. Would Laurent be able to remove the ice from every corner, or would nature take care of that. _Could_ nature melt away the ice?

Would Damianos expect reparations, now that they both knew the truth, for the inexcusable way he had accused him and berated him?

Would Damianos be truly returning to the townhouse...returning to him...at all?

With so many thoughts to keep him company, sleep caught Laurent quite off-guard.

  
  


\--------------------

 

Laurent could not gauge how long it had been since he had slept so long and so deeply. Surely not since the night of the recital at Ravenel. It was mid-day when he opened his eyes. He was sweating beneath the covers and so, sluggishly, stepped out of bed. He remembered that he had left the House of Vere in naught but his skin and an overcoat (The boots had been too big, far too cumbersome if he were to bring them along than to just to leave them behind.)

Thankfully, someone had left out an undershirt and a pair of trousers. Nicaise’s boots were hidden underneath the bedframe, like the boy did not want it known his generosity. Fortunately, Laurent and he were similar in footwear.

It was uncomfortably awkward for Laurent as he descended the staircase. He had never been in Nikandros’s home. A servant in passing him with fresh linens curtsied. Laurent dumbly nodded, not awake enough for a full greeting.

“You’ll find the Master and your compatriots in the kitchen, Mr. deVere. Just down the hall from the foyer.” Again, Laurent nodded without really processing the words. The servant curtsied again and continued on her way. She acted as if nothing was amiss. Laurent supposed that was because she was paid to do so.

He could hear them all, before he saw them. They were talking amiably, working in tandem with the clanging of silverware or the movement of china. Laurent understood what an omen he was when he opened the door and the cacophony turned silent.

“Good Morning, everyone.” Laurent could have said. He could have taken the reigns and turned the quiet in his favor. Instead he made straight for the closest open chair. He reached for the closest thing in front of him - a bowl of fresh rolls - and stuffed it into his face. It slid like a rock down his throat into his stomach. He wanted more.

Nikandros shuffled his chair closer to the table. “Good Morning, Mr. deVere. Are you...recovered?”

Laurent nodded. He did not turn to look at any of the three. “I am feeling better, yes. Thank you.” He took another bite of the bread.

Jord, evidently, sat beside him, and passed him a plate of scrambled eggs. He smiled at his friend. Laurent could only summon the energy to nod again. He did not turn away quick enough to miss the look passing between Jord and Nikandros.

“Oh, for the lord of all!” Nicaise, who had returned to the visage of a normal boy, reached under the table towards Nikandros. Jord exclaimed something, probably a scolding at Nicaise’s expense, while Nicaise slammed a bundle of papers before Laurent’s seat. The morning’s periodical, it seemed.

_Well-known brothel owner suddenly disappears_

Laurent snatched up the paper in an instant, energy flowing through him to read every line.

_London officers arrived late last evening to the famed House of Vere when citizens came streaming into the station declaring the building had been suddenly encased in ice. When arriving on the scene, the house was completely empty including no sign of the owner one Reginald deVere. Further investigations also found several key documents missing from his study at the time as well. Officials believe that Reginald deVere, an established Endowed gentleman, may have suddenly attacked his employees in a fit of psychotics, or killed himself._

_It is unknown whether or not Reginald deVere will be brought to trial for the damage to the House of Vere, or if they will open their doors again. For now, an unnamed official is in pursuit of Mr. deVere's nephew, who has been identified as the manager, and likely sole heir, of the property._

Laurent was no longer hungry.

“This…,” Nikandros began. Laurent looked at him across the table, where he reached out. A paper square was nestled in his hand, “arrived with the paper this morning.”

A letter.

Laurent stood, abandoning his plate. He strode past Jord, taking the letter in shaking hands. Laurent had never trembled before, never shivered for the cold did not affect him as it did other humans. He was unsure how to respond to it. He was unsure how he would respond to this letter, whatever Damianos may write.

“Laurent...will you be alright?”

“Nicaise, make us some tea, won’t you?”

“No.” Laurent interjected. Nicaise froze in the middle of rising from his seat. Laurent cleared his throat and raised his head. He looked between the three, between his friends. “I...I will be fine. I...I will read this in drawing room, if you need to find me.” He smiled, forced, of course, before taking his leave.

There were no servants, and no other eyes to observe him. Laurent curled side-ways into an armchair, his legs hanging over a leg, and opened the letter.

_My dearest Laurent,_

_With this letter, my hope is that you will have received the news of your uncle’s disappearance. I will not release the details of such to you, either, should you want to ask. It is my deepest desire in all of this that you remain innocent of all matters._

_I am seeking a way for you to remain owner of your household without holding a connection to this scandal. My efforts have yielded few options, but I will not stop till you are as free as you can be._

_I do not know how long I will be away for. You need not concern yourself with my activities - please focus your energies on remaining with Jord and Nicaise during this reprieve. But to get you through this anxious time, I have enclosed three truths._

_One, that your uncle will be receiving the highest caliber of punishment due to him, no matter what he may say or do._

_Two, the circumstances of the House of Vere, and the livelihood of its employees, will hereafter be up to your discretion alone, next we meet._

_Three, that there once was a man who loved a woman so much that for her he slew a dragon. That there once was a woman who loved a man so much that for him she caused a war. That they say nobody could love as much as they._

_And that I, do love you more._

_Your humble suitor,_

_Damianos._

  
  


\--------------------

 

Damianos had certainly taken his time in sorting out the legalities of Laurent’s separation from his uncle. There had been only one letter delivered to the townhouse, which Nikandros replied to with practiced ease and sent a servant out the following hour to deliver his response. Laurent did not know if it was from Damianos or not. He did not ask.

Both Nikandros and Jord were easily twice the build of Laurent, so their lending of waistcoats was a last resort when Laurent expressed frustration in roaming the house in his underclothes. Laurent went out in Damianos’s overcoat, also fairly large on him, when they left to the tailor’s for a new wardrobe. It comforted him, to hide in the black fabric.

Days passed slowly for Laurent. He could join Jord and Nicaise in the drawing room most days, sit in the spring sunlight and chat about friendlier tidings without exerting too much energy. He went through the day, walking with Jord in the small garden Nikandros kept behind his house, or reading in Nikandros’s library. He could not exercise much throughout the day; he tired easily. For this reason. Laurent had taken to retiring to the guest room shortly after dinner, lest he half to drag himself there (as happened twice before.)

The nights were the worst. Memories erased and covered up by Aimeric’s powers made themselves known through his dreams. Seeing his uncle’s face or worse, remembering Aimeric’s skin beneath his hands, transfigured any dream into a nightmare.

Laurent could still feel the chill beneath his skin, the ice flowing through his veins. Waking violently from a nightmare, the cold never extended further than the hairs on his arms. Laurent worried he had wasted the best of it attacking his uncle. He would try to chill things during the daylight -  refresh glasses of wine or freeze melting sorbets - with much success. The thought of doing anything further frightened him, and he could see it did the same for his company.

What would happen, should he succeed?

What should happen, should he fail?

After freezing his tea a solid shape, Laurent resigned himself to only using his abilities in the most dire of situations, and letting his mind develop during this time instead. Laurent did not share this decision, at least not verbally, with the others. He did notice that Nicaise was the one to speak, quite loudly, when the conversation took a lull. When Laurent felt the most melancholy, it was coincidentally Nicaise who came rapping at his door to discuss a book he had found in the library.

Laurent allowed himself to embrace Nicaise once, in gratitude.

June had only begun when a postman came to the door. Nicaise answered it, returning to the parlor with his thin fingers wrapped around a small mountain of papers. “These are addressed to Laurent.” He dropped the bundle unceremoniously onto the table. It rocked.

“What have you ordered, Laurent? A handwritten copy of the Magna Carta?” Jord laughed, leafing through the pages.

Laurent followed suit. “I have ordered nothing. I have no money, as you would remember Jord were you not so comfortably provided for.” Jord narrowed his eyes at Laurent. They had fallen back into their comfortable pattern of harmless barbs and insults. Just the other day, Nicaise had served Laurent ginger tea for demanding Nicaise practice Greek with Nikandros. (In all seriousness, who stocked ginger tea?)

Nicaise coughed, turning the two men’s eyes to him. He handed a large paper to Laurent, turning blue as a normal human may blush pink. Laurent arched an eyebrow, receiving the paper and reading the top line.

_The Last Will and Testament of Reginald deVere_.

“Nicaise, I do believe it is time for your lessons with Mr. Kyroi.” Jord rose slowly from his seat. Nicaise did not fight the obvious avoidance. He took Jord’s hand and followed him out of the parlor. Laurent did not watch them to know where to find them later.

The will had named Laurent as Reginald’s heir and successor, obviously, as Laurent had no other kin, and neither did Reginald, by extension. There were conditions added to his inheritance.

He would remain at the House of Vere, continuing as the manager and Presenter.

He would never marry, not bequeath any wealth obtained through the House, to any of its workers or their families.

He would take a vow of celibacy on receiving his inheritance.

He would welcome Aimeric Ambassateur into his household with open arms.

Reading each line turned Laurent’s stomach over and over. He hunched over the table, taking deep breaths. He re-read every line over and over and it only made him sicker.

_Move on, Laurent_. He yelled at himself. _Move on, move on,_ “Move on.” He had to repeat the words multiple times, even aloud, before his body complied without feeling nauseous. _What are these other papers for?_

Laurent leafed through it all: A statement of bank accounts, savings bonds, a transference of title and deed.

An empty will and testament, with his uncle’s signature already signed at the bottom.

The name of the heir was not filled, nor any conditions notated. Laurent furiously looked back at the other documents and found they were all blank as to who the receiver was, but all signed in his uncle’s hand.

“What am I to do with these?” He asked aloud to no one.

“Whatever you wish.” Someone answered back.

Laurent turned his head sharply. In the doorway Jord and Nicaise had left through, Damianos filled it all. He looked just as handsomely put together as the day he arrived as Laurent’s knight in shining armor.

“Mr. Akielon.” Laurent rose.

Damianos took three steps forward. “No, please, remain as you were. I only…” Damianos looked about the room, as if he was remembering where he was, and what he was doing, and the continuing uncertainty of their relationship. He did not retreat, but did not enter further into the room. Laurent did oblige and sit. “I wanted to offer the assistance of myself, and my cousin, were any of the legal matters concerning...Mr. deVere unclear or confusing.”

Laurent stared at the numerous papers. “This...is what you have been doing all this time?”

“I promised next we meet, the future of the House of Vere would be your sole decision.”

_My decision_. The papers suddenly held a whole new meaning. Laurent could see it now - he could claim the House for himself, start a new and wipe all trace of his uncle from the place.

Or he could wipe his hands of the matter entirely.

It was his decision.

“How is this possible?”

“The will is forged - the blank one, of course. I spoke to deVere’s attorney at great lengths to obtain it. Should you sign it, with the aid of my cousin - ”

“What can Mr. Kyroi do to prove their authenticity?”

Damianos chuckled, ducking his head to hide the sound. “Have you never wondered how my cousin keeps his fortune?” Laurent did not reply. Damianos continued. “He is a notary for the Port of London. He can authenticate any document we wish him to.”

Laurent breathed out a laugh. Forgeries, no doubt done by Damianos himself with painstaking dedication, authenticated by Nikandros, and Laurent could walk away from this life altogether.

“It is the least I can do to make amends for how I have wronged you.” Damianos said.

Laurent whipped his head to face Damianos. He was in earnest in his regret. Laurent took note of his fidgeting hands, his hunched shoulders. He smiled, but only to seem inviting. It was not the blinding, annoying, welcoming smile that wrapped Laurent in warmth and love a lifetime ago.

“For what you have done for me, and for this even more so,” Laurent gestured to the papers, “should it not be I begging forgiveness of you? I treated you so harshly without knowing all the facts.”

“What did you say of me that I did not deserve?” Damianos took a small step forward. When Laurent did not react adversely - or at all - Damianos was encouraged to take another, larger step. There were only a foot of space between them. So Laurent would supposedly not need to crane his neck, Damianos kneeled to the ground before him. “That I had yielded research into the tragic event without thinking that there could be a young boy out there, lost to the cold who did not, could not, understand what had happened to his family - this is true. I had accepted the scars on my back as my cross to bear for the deeds I had done, giving no prayer to the scars a grown man may carry in his heart for years to come.”

“You did not deserve my anger.” Laurent whispered. He did not trust himself to speak louder without crying.

Damianos bowed his head. “You are being too kind to us both.” _You are too kind to me,_ Laurent thought. “That you are speaking to me now, that you allowed my help that day, amongst all other emotions, I have felt the flame of hope growing every day.” He raised his head and Laurent lost himself, once again, in those brown eyes. “If your sentiments remain the same as they had last April, I pray that you speak plainly. My affections and wishes have not changed since I first met you, but one word and I will be silent and gone from your sight forever.”

Laurent worried his lip between his teeth. His fingers scratched at the fabric of his trousers. Focused in Damianos’s gaze, he subtly shook his head.

Damianos sucked in a breath. His shoulders went tense and Laurent saw him set his posture straighter and tall. “If...If, by some chance, your feelings have changed…” Damianos breathed deeply. He appeared surprised at the chance. “I would tell you, that you consume every part of my body and soul. That I completely, and perfectly, and ardently love you, and never wish to be parted from you from this day forth.”

Damianos did not rush him for an answer. Laurent used his time cautiously, lost in his head. He had lost count of the days since he last saw the House, lost count of the nights he woke up from nightmares. There was no guarantee that accepting Damianos would make his nights any easier. Even more far-fetched than that was the notion that either of them were who they had been before. It was a hard road that lay before them, to return to the easy flirting of their early courting days.

They might never get there at all. Damianos could break his heart, though it would take something exceedingly horrible to exceed this pain. Or Laurent could insult Damianos, become the final straw that destroyed his faith in love. They could both be found by the police, laying in bed, or running free in the woods, and be at the mercy of condemnatory bigots.

What a wonderful life it would be.

Laurent reached out his hands. His slim fingers traced lightly over Damianos’s jaw, moving to tangle themselves in the gentle curls he had scarcely allowed himself to miss. Damianos breathed out a sigh of relief. He moved closer and Laurent moved towards him. Their foreheads touched. Laurent felt whole again.

“Take me to Ios.”


	19. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the people who made it this far without losing interest or being pissed at me - hey! How's it going? Thank you so much for reading this and a special thanks to those of you who commented. Thanks so much guys.
> 
> This...this was a whirlwind. I honestly never expected this to actually be _done_. I expected procrastination would win and I'd drop out half-way through. And now I have this giant behemoth and I'm just so proud of it.
> 
> Special thanks to [spiritoffox](spiritoffox.tumblr.com) for sticking by and being such an awesome artist!!!~
> 
> Smaller note: HERE'S the Major Character death everyone was so worried about :)

When Laurent awoke, the mid-morning sun was streaming through the curtains of his bedroom. He groaned, stretching his limbs as far as they would go and finding he was alone in his bed. No doubt Damianos had risen with the rooster to tend to the ground of Ios, as he was oft inclined to do. At that thought, Laurent rose from the bed. Damianos’s bed was lavishly stuffed and covered in silk sheets and down pillows and one day, Laurent was determined to waste away a day in it. But he needed to make his place in the household first.

As soon as everything in London was cleared away, Damianos accommodated Laurent and whisked him off to Ios. At dinner that night, Laurent discussed Damianos’s plan to Jord and Nikandros. Together, they agreed that the House of Vere would pass to Jord, who would govern the house alongside Nikandros. Nicaise would continue living with the two at Nikandros’s townhouse, continuing his education. (He wanted to become an attorney, to settle matters as decisively as the adults about him were.) Jord signed the papers that night and two days later, London was a small speck on Laurent’s horizon.

Six weeks after Laurent had left, Jord had sent them a letter with news of the House. The ice had indeed melted away since Laurent had left and opened its doors again - but not as a brothel house. It was a place for the Endowed to come and feel welcomed, to learn the etiquette of high society and educate themselves on the classics. Each employee of the brothel received a weekly stipend whenever they brought an Endowed off the streets and offered them a warm meal. Jord extended an invitation, that Laurent and Damianos were welcome to visit the House whenever they wished.

That had been nearly a year ago, and Laurent had never gone back.

Life in the countryside had been difficult, at first. Living poorly, Laurent was used to harsh living. He had never worked a garden before, or kept livestock comfortable.

“You do not need to force yourself,” Damianos insisted. Laurent was lying prone across the bed while Damianos rubbed a salve over his poor aching muscles. “My men and I can handle the work - we have for years.”

“I will not remain idle while I still have energy to move.” Laurent snapped. He heard Damianos sigh and so turned his head to face the other direction.

They both knew that there was still a large part of Laurent that felt he needed to repay all his cruelty to Damianos. They argued about it every now and then, that Damianos had forgiven him and that Laurent only needed to forgive himself. But Damianos was not about to push the subject again. Instead, he had Laurent work with one of the gentlemen, Erasmus, to learn at a lighter pace how to till the soil.

The door opened just as Laurent was finished buttoning his waistcoat. Damianos entered carrying a parcel. He set it on the bed and embraced Laurent, kissing his temple. “Good Morrow, my sweet prince.”

Laurent closed his eyes and smiled. “You let me sleep again.”

“I would never!” Damianos pulled back, setting his features into a face of mock offense. Laurent raised an eyebrow. Damianos divulged into laughter. “The new foal got loose and I was up already. It took some time to gather him back into his stable.”

“If he’s escaping his stable, it may be a wise decision to have him sleep in the pasture, where he can buck and gallop till he is tired again.” Laurent gripped Damianos by his upper arms. “Now, what really took you from our bed, because you have not broken a sweat.”

Damianos waggled a finger in his face. “You and I are too wise to woo peaceably.”

“You are quote Shakespeare, Damianos. I know you are only inclined to do so when you have grand gesture to bestow upon me.”

Damianos smiled. He turned Laurent to face the bed, and the parcel that lay upon it. “This arrived at morning’s light.” Laurent did nothing. “It is for you, my love.”

In that case, Laurent opened it.

A dress sparkled in the sunlight, staring back at Laurent.

His bright blue eyes whirled around to Damianos. “You...for me?”

“I have a tailor in Westminster who has supplied in the past with gifts for the gentlemen here. With the help of Jord and Nicaise, I was able to fashion this garment for you.” Laurent pulled the dress out of the box with attentive fingers. Damianos drew his arms around Laurent’s waist closer. “You mentioned on several occasions your envy of the ladies who them.”

“Never in my wildest imaginings did I think I would.” Laurent leaned back to stare at Damianos. “Your gentlemen...wear frocks?”

“Erasmus, mainly. Though he is more partial to the corsets and plentiful skirts of the Rococo style. Isander, when he gets the opportunity, is more taken with the silks and satins of India.”

“And Kallias?”

Damianos pursed his lips. “Well, it is not so much a dress, but he does enjoy dressing as a Roman whenever he is at leisure.”

Kallias had officially been granted the title of Steward of Ios. The image of him roaming the grounds as a Roman general made Laurent laugh. He felt Damianos press his nose to Laurent’s neck and leaned into the touch. “It is very beautiful.” His face fell. “I only wish I had occasion to wear it.”

Damianos kissed his throat. “Well…” He began. “Isander has been reading on old handfasting traditions. I am sure he would be more than happy to put his knowledge to practice.”

Laurent could not turn around fast enough in Damianos’s arms. The dress crushed between their chests, but Laurent’s attention was totally elsewhere. Damianos’s face split into that wonderful smile.

“Damianos...did you just propose that we be...married?”

Damianos did not laugh, or scoff, or smile even more. He stood perfectly still. Laurent held his breath. His fingers curled into the fabric of the dress. Then he leaned forward and kissed Laurent’s forehead.

“Erasmus should be awake now.” He whispered. “He should be able to show you how to wear it. If you want to, he’ll even show you how to style your hair and apply makeup.”

Laurent thought for sure, he had died during the night. For he had awaken in a paradise.

He surged up, crushing Damianos’s lips to his. The kiss was full of passion and want, but over much too quickly. Laurent dashed out of the room in pursuit of Erasmus.

The dress fastened to his body as a glove does to a hand. A white gown accented with blue, especially at the waistband. A top layer of skirt was completely translucent, sliding through Laurent’s fingers.

Erasmus had been overflown with tears when Laurent walked out from behind the changing screen. He was blubbering over himself as they walked into the courtyard.  
  
Kallias and Isander stood beside Damianos at the center, dressed in their Sunday best. “Why do you not dress as you want at all times?” Laurent whispered to Erasmus. “Damianos would surely ask nothing of you today.”

Erasmus smiled through his tears. “Today is your day, Mr. Laurent. We wanted you to feel special.”

Laurent chuckled. “Damianos has been planning this for quite some time, then?”

“What does he not plan in advanced?”

Erasmus held Laurent’s hand out to Damianos, who took it with a smile so wide it stretched from ear to ear. Laurent laughed out loud, feeling like he couldn’t contain it anymore.

“You are stunning, my love.” Damianos whispered. Laurent ducked his head to hide his blush. Despite his embarrassment, Laurent swayed his body so that the dress fluttered in the wind.

Isander cleared his throat, standing tall and proper in the sunlight. “We stand here to bear union to the commitment of this man,” He pointed to Damianos, “and this man,” He pointed to Laurent, “in eternal bonds.” Here Isander pulled two long braided cords, one red and the other blue, between his hands. “I would ask that those involved speak their devotion.”

Damianos stepped closer. Laurent felt his lungs fill with the smell of Damianos’s cologne. Damianos pulled their hands up to his chest.

“My darling prince,” He began, “To both you and I, demons follow us. They plague our pasts and manifest in our dreams. But I have found no greater blessing, than the feeling of you in my arms.” Laurent stepped closer so that Damianos may feel that sensation now. Their joined hands only just separated their chests. “From this day forth, it is my hope to see you every day till I am gray with time.” Laurent thought he could see tears in Damianos’s eyes. He surely felt them well in his own. “You granted me, the greatest gift in the world, when you sang that night in Ravenel. You gave your love to me and I will never find the words to say how grateful I am, no matter the time I may have. I take thee as my husband, till death us depart.”

Laurent bit his lip. He did not know if he was withholding his smile, or holding back tears.

“Damianos...when I prayed, in my most secret of hearts, for someone, it was you that I prayed for. It was you who saved me from being broken apart by so many forces. All I need is more of you by my side every day. And though I may not be a virginal as once thought…”

“I care not.” Damianos interrupted.

Laurent narrowed his eyes, in playful scorn. “I take thee as my husband,” He continued, squeezing Damianos’s hands till his knuckles turned white. “Till death us depart.”

As they had spoken, Isander wrapped the cord around their wrists three times. “In the heavens, in the afterlife, and in the Earth about us, may your union be solid, and sealed with a kiss.”

Damianos and Laurent together blushed as pink as school maidens. Certainly, the gentlemen of Ios had caught the two of them in...even more scandalous positions than just kissing. However, with all the ceremony behind it, this felt far more intimate.

Damianos pulled back a hand, cupping Laurent’s cheek and drawing him close.

A hectic galloping gave them seconds notice before a tall horse entered the courtyard. Laurent was indeed pulled closed, but only out of the path of the beast. Isander, Kallias, and Erasmus stepped closer - they huddled while the horse rounded them, rearing back and bucking.

Damianos growled, so low that Laurent could barely hear amongst the chaos. “Kastor…”

Reins in hand, Kastor was tall in his seat, so very cock-sure of himself. He pulled back harshly. The steed neighed loudly, shaking its head back and forth. “Brother dear, what scandal have you polluted my lands with this day?”

Laurent looked between the brothers: Kastor so filled with annoying smugness and Damianos shaking with barely contained anger. Laurent squeezed his hand even tighter, if only to calm him down. He would not let an arrogant pretender poison a blessed day.

Kastor dismounted, approaching on slow footsteps for an obvious dramatic appeal. Laurent rolled his eyes. When Kastor actually faced him though, Laurent’s grip on Damianos loosened, if only in shock.

Kastor’s eyes were glazed over. Half of him was not truly there attacking Ios. It was a look Laurent remembered from his childhood nearly vividly.

Aleron could cast shadows, both in the physical world and over a person’s mind. Laurent had seen plenty of people flocking to their doorstep asking him to remove memories - “cast them away” Laurent seemed to recall. Sometimes, the people could not handle having someone toy with their minds, no matter how kind his father’s attentions may have been. A part of them was lost, and would never be recovered.

Kastor looked just the same. He probably had for the past eleven years.

“My business is my own, Kastor. This does not concern you at all.”

Kastor cracked his neck. Laurent noticed a strip of fur running down the back of it. “But it does. I have been lenient in years past, allowing you to drag our family name through the dirt - quite literally so - by reducing yourself to menial labor, and allowing your household to be run by only three halfwit rentboys.” Laurent looked over his shoulder. Isander and Erasmus hid behind Kallias. Kallias stood in front of them with his arms outstretched, but it was obvious in his face that he looked to Damianos for true protection. This was not their fight; they were collateral damage. “But debasing yourself to a union with a male prostitute - you have sunk lower than anyone could think, Damianos.”

While Laurent’s grip had slackened due to his surprise, Damianos took it up again with fervor. “Laurent is a businessman. He even did business with Lady Jokaste.”

“A whore taking a whore’s business. Damianos, you insult me.”

Damianos sucked in a breath. “You will apologize to him at once, Kastor.”

Kastor laughed. It sent chills down Laurent’s spine. He rolled his shoulders back and they hunched, horrible angles. Fur burst the seams of his clothes, claws growing out of his boots. “We shall see, Damianos.”

Kastor, no doubt, had wanted to get the first bite. Damianos did not afford him the opportunity.

Laurent’s hand was left behind when Damianos charged and changed, all in one move, tearing the cord from around his wrist in a throbbingly painful manner. He landed on all fours on top of Kastor’s chest, snapping at his semi-human throat. By the length of his leg, Kastor saved himself and kicked Damianos off. Damianos righted himself, snarling and giving Kastor the time he needed to change into a wolf as well.

Laurent shook his head. He turned to the gentlemen. “Inside - inside, all of you. Stay away from the windows and do not return until we call for you.” Isander did not need to be told twice. Kallias and Erasmus looked at Laurent with fear - fear for him. “I will be fine. Damianos will not hurt me.”

It was not Damianos they were frightened of. But they nodded and obeyed.

Laurent turned back to the fight. Kastor and Damianos were circling each other; thankfully neither had gotten in a real bite in so short a time. They barked and growled, no doubt trading barbs if they could speak. Laurent could not tell them apart by their builds or their colorings. He concentrated all his attention, to the red and blue wrapped around the front paw.

In a flash, the fight started. Kastor reared back on his hind legs and dove, maw open to catch Damianos’s snout inside his massive fangs. Damianos fell back onto his spine, rolling over so that Kastor crashed into the stone instead of him. He recovered quicker than his brother, and Damianos sank his teeth into Kastor’s flank.

Kastor howled and it echoed off of the walls. He contorted himself, perhaps lengthened his body, to turn around and bite Damianos’s ear. It was not a full attack, but more of a tactic to remove Damianos and have them facing each other once more.

Anything that had signified Kastor as arrogant and egotistical was gone. Laurent wondered if there was any semblance of the man fighting in the wolf at all, or was he all animal, looking to claim a territory not rightfully his.

Looking at Damianos, and the blood staining his teeth, the fur standing straight in intimidation, Laurent worried if the same could be said for him as well. It came to him with too much clarity.

_Snout covered in his father’s blood, he had turned with eyes set on his uncle. Licking his chops, like he had just partaken in a hedonistic meal, his uncle had suddenly turned into the most appetizing dessert._

Kastor hunkered down, springing into a leap that landed him square on Damianos’s neck. He sank his fangs in deep and blood squirted out onto the pavement.

_One powerful leap and it was over._

Laurent felt every shard of ice flowing through his veins. He felt it gathering at his fingertips. He felt fear stock up in his throat.

Damianos howled with hideous pain. It sounded almost human.

_His uncle screamed to the Heavens. It sounded almost animalistic._

“STOP!”

And Laurent released it all.

A flood of cold burst from every pore. It stretched to even the corners of the courtyard. The blast hit the fighting brothers dead center.

The ice recognized the scars on Damianos’s back - recognized Damianos. It _knew_ Damianos.

It did not know Kastor.

Damianos shifted back to skin and bones. His eyes were intensely focused on the block of icy corpse that would be his brother; he could barely breathe, not even to account for the cold. He rose to his feet and walked along the body. His feet barely made a sound against the ground. It was all so very deathly quiet.

Ha.

Deathly quiet. _Deathly_ quiet.

A small giggle bubbled out of Laurent’s mouth.

Deathly quiet. _Deathly_.

Another giggle slipped out.

Dead. Kastor was dead.

A full laugh.

“Laurent?”

Another laugh. Laurent held up his hand, still tangled in the handfasting cord, up to his mouth to contain the sounds, but laughter still pushed through. He was shaking violently, whether through the cold finally breaking his skin, or by the sheer force of laughter, he did not know. He kept laughing. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he kept laughing. His fingers rose into his own hair, pulling at the roots in such pain. He kept laughing. Through all the hysterics, Laurent kept laughing. Even when he wanted to stop, was gasping for a reprieve, Laurent kept laughing.

Damianos crossed the distance in bounds. He pulled Laurent in against his chest just when Laurent’s legs buckled and they slid slowly to the ground. He tried to hush him, but doubt he could be heard over the sound of laughing and crying. Laurent’s shoulders rose and fell at an alarming rate, Damianos wondered if he was getting any air at all. “Laurent, please - Laurent, my love, look at me. Say something, please.” Damianos has to physically turn Laurent to get him to comply, holding his face in place to stare him down. “Say something.”

Laurent continued to laugh. Looking in his blue eyes, Damianos thought he could see true fear shining in his tears.

_help_

“Say something, Laurent. Speak to me. Say something!”

Through the heart-breaking laughter, Damianos could make out few words.

“We are even.”

The last breath knocked out of Damianos. He stared at the frozen wolf that was not reshaping into Kastor’s body.

_Auguste._

Laurent’s lip quivered. His body convulsed, sobs wracking his body. Damianos threw him to his chest, holding him so very tightly.

Laurent laughed through the night. He cried for longer. And Damianos held him together, by only a thread, for it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END
> 
> Bye!!
> 
> (and yes, I do mean that's the end.)


End file.
